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DAECHWITA: Chapter 8

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“You do realize we have the means to fake our deaths, right?”

Chapter 8: Burn It (Till It's All Gone)

📜6.9K words | Approx. 30-min. read 🚨Please see the series masterlist for general warnings: Scheming continues, themes of revenge, negligence, and resentment. 📻Accompanying soundtrack 💭Reblogs & comments are always appreciated and please keep in mind they are the ultimate motivation fuel. 🍮Like my content? Consider supporting my work with a pudding!

It had been years.

The boys had reached the peak of their puberty once they started high school. Their extraordinary normal routine continued—civilian cosplay with their shadow parents during the weekdays, mask off in the palace on the weekends. They were growing up. They were growing up so well into such fine young men, and there was still no word from James.

Of course Hyejin would have loved to show him his son’s first steps. The day he said his first word. Maybe he would have even been understanding that Chris had a sibling albeit from someone else, but they were still brothers. They were wreaking havoc together just like he said they would. 

It was a lot of could have beens but it was okay nevertheless. Hyejin had put a deadbolt on her heart and hid it away in some dusty chest. If her other half was alive and well somewhere, maybe their paths would cross again. Maybe one day she could indeed set out to find him like she told him. Maybe he was really waiting for her as he promised. 

Maybe they could be together again in another lifetime.

“I’m afraid young master Christopher has got his heart stolen, your highness.”

Every time Mina visited her chambers to do her usual reporting on her boys, that was the one thing Hyejin had always dreaded to hear. She knew whatever Chris thought was feeling was temporary. Nothing could compare to that very special someone, and no matter how much she wanted to sit him down to talk to him about it, she knew it was going to be in vain. He would maybe listen just to be polite and squeeze a couple of ‘You’re right’s here and there, but she knew all her words were going to evaporate as she was saying them. 

Kids. They only ever said a heartfelt ‘You’re right’ once they experienced that horrible pain firsthand.

“Who is it?”

“A young lady by the name of Elizabeth. They make music together.”

“Does he know that you know?”

“I don’t think so.”

Ah, of course. It made sense why he felt like he had already met the one. Chris could have argued this Elizabeth girl was his first love all he wanted, but Hyejin knew for a fact that it wasn’t. It was music. And bonding solely over a mutual interest did not a soulmate make. If only he knew. If only he knew Minhyuk and Jun’s little girl was his doppelganger from the opposite realm. If only he knew he would combust in admiration if he saw what she was capable of doing with music. If only he knew they were both equally headstrong, bled passion, and in search of the same degree of normal. They spoke the exact same language and were just perfect for each other.

“I also think you should know that the young masters are thinking of leaving the country after graduation, your highness.”

“They– They what?”

Sheer panic. Her boys were going to leave? But there was no reason to leave. They could be happy here. There was no one chasing after them. There was no one threatening to hurt them. How was she going to be able to protect them from afar? How could she just sit there and watch herself be gradually erased from their lives? No. No. Just no.

“Their acceptance letters from Juilliard have arrived this Wednesday,” Mina continued solemnly, “Young master Christopher will be studying composition while young master Hyunjin will be studying dance.”

“You were supposed to tell me this while they were scheming a future, Mina.”

“I wasn’t aware of their plans until the mail arrived, your highness. I wholeheartedly apologize.”

Hyejin got mad at herself for lashing out at Mina like that. The woman did everything she possibly could to be by her side for years—even became a second mother to her sons. It wasn’t her fault that there were some things the boys were able to hide despite all the hidden eyes watching over them because why wouldn’t there be?

Kids. They always found a way to outsmart their parents one way or another. That being said, Hyejin could rely on her boy to make one mistake for he was carrying all the symptoms of being driven by emotion.

“Are they going to attend their senior dance?”

“Yes, your highness.”

“Tell Chris some sob story about the fleeting youth. I don’t care what it is,” she spoke to her aide resolutely, “Make sure he feels compelled to confess to this girl that night. I want Jiyong to watch him from afar and bring them both home.”

“Your highness…”

“Do as I say, Mina,” she firmly ordered, more like a queen rather than a mother.

“I’ll tell her I love her tonight.”

Right when they stepped foot into their school’s gym, these were the words Chris spoke to his brother while his eyes scanned the whole place to find his person of interest. Immediate panic flared in Hyunjin’s guts.

“Don’t do it tonight,” he countered with composure which was the complete opposite of the ruckus that broke out inside him, “Wait just a little longer. We’re almost there.”

“I know how Jiwon is looking at her. I have to do something before he does.”

“Then do it on our fucking graduation!”

“Who knows where she’ll be in a month if she doesn’t know!”

Goddammit, Chris!

Why? Why was he always this headstrong? Didn’t Chris insist on applying to Juilliard just because Liz was going to be in New York, too? They could fucking book same-day tickets and he could confess his love at the goddamn airport while he was at it. Why now?

Why… now?

Why risk ruining Hyunjin’s plans, too?

He made it seem like it didn’t really matter to him where he would go to school as long as he could study dance, but Hyunjin had a secret buried ten feet under his soul. A secret he couldn’t even tell his brother about.

A girl. 

Marilyn. The complete opposite of the icon that popped into everyone’s head. By herself mostly. Most people would say she had ginger hair, but Hyunjin saw fire there.

The first time he saw her was during home economics class. They were randomly paired and she taught him how to glaze a cake. She didn’t talk much—in fact, she spoke to him so rarely that Hyunjin knew every sentence she had uttered by heart. 

“This is nothing compared to what I will learn at the Culinary Institute of New York.”

New York. She was going to go to New York.

During lunch breaks, she would pick up her Moleskine notebook and sit down under the cherry blossom tree, writing and writing god knows what. Maybe stories, maybe diary entries, maybe recipes she was making up in her head. She watched the sky a lot. Every time she noticed the contrails of a passing plane highlighted by the sun like a golden magic marker, it made her smile. Hyunjin had no idea why he was so drawn to her.

He didn’t talk to her either. Whenever he noticed she was walking towards the tree, he would jump from his seat and run after her just to slow down to give the impression that he was casually making his way there. He would go sit under the tree with her and write little poems on his own. Sometimes they would lie down side by side in silence and watch the sky together. They would smile at each other sometimes, but that was it.

Hyunjin was going to say hi to her the second he received his diploma. He was going to invite her somewhere quiet and ask her about what she was writing all this time. Whether her lines mentioned him at all. When she was leaving and whether she wanted to see the Empire State with him. He wanted to gift her a lifetime supply of Moleskine notebooks. He wanted to hold hands with her, have his first kiss with her, and when the time was right, ask her permission to become one with her. Clumsily make love to her, explore his body with her, write poems inspired by her fiery hair for her, recite it for her, and make love to her again. He wanted to surrender to her.

All in due time. When he was finally free.

“Do you have any idea what your foolishness could have cost us?”

If only Chris wasn’t that stubborn. If only he could hold himself back for two more seconds. If only he wasn’t the reason why Hyunjin was filled to the brim with an insufferable grudge for he took away the one thing he wanted for the longest time. To be happy. And be free.

It broke Hyejin’s heart to a million pieces to do that, too, but one day…

Hopefully one day they would understand why she wasn’t ready to let them go.

As much as Minhyuk was excited on your behalf that you were about to take your first steps into young adulthood, he was also aware of the frequent meltdowns you were having over choosing schools. He decided he wouldn’t say anything until you received all the responses for your applications when in fact he knew they were all going to be acceptances. All the more reason for you to flip.

While going through the mail that particular morning, when he saw the letter from The Royal Academy, he heaved an exasperated sigh.

“Hyejin, I swear to fucking god…”

Yes, she wasn’t even trying to be subtle doing everything in her power to make you and Chris cross paths, but this once he didn’t have an excuse to outright refuse. It was your education in question, and more importantly, it was you who made the choice to apply there. But he’d be damned if he didn’t have a little confrontation with her about her matchmaking obsession.

“You are aware we’re not royal descendants, right?”

“Who cares?”

“What do you mean ‘Who cares’?” Minhyuk threw his hands in the air, “Weren’t you the one forbidding your sons from having relations with non-royal folk because of, what was it, their obligation to your ancestors? How are you going to be able to explain yourself?”

“You think I don’t know the only royal people the boys are able to encounter are themselves?”

Jesus fucking christ very much.

You may not have been royalty, but if it ever came to that, nobody could refute how special you were. How strong and determined you were. That trumped being royalty. You were the only exception to the rule she self-imposed to serve her not-so-ulterior motives. 

“You know we offer the best education she could ever receive, Minhyuk,” Hyejin offered a solid argument, “I know you think I’m being delusional and whatnot, but please do not deter her if she wants to make a favorable decision.”

He was thinking. A part of him wanted to intervene, but the sane part of him wanted to let you do whatever you wanted with your life. He knew you weren’t able to experience an average childhood as it was, and he would feel horrible if you resented him for a choice he made for you. He had made enough decisions on your behalf already.

“You know how indebted I am to you and Jun,” Hyejin touched her friend’s arm before leaving, “Please keep this in mind too while you’re judging me.”

I want her to be as graceful as a queen.

Hyejin couldn’t give a damn about how intact one’s manners were—it most certainly didn’t define the worth of a person, but Jun’s last words had been haunting her for years. Minhyuk was so adamant about his principles that if she told him ‘I will be giving etiquette classes to your daughter’ he would remarkably lose his mind thinking it was an attempt to make you more feminine. It had nothing to do with it. Selfish maybe, delusional even, but the voices in her head kept telling her that she would stop waking up in cold sweat in the middle of the night, that she would stop dreaming about Jun and wilting forget-me-nots when you stepped foot on these grounds. That Jun would stop questioning her every single night.

You promised. You know they belong together. What’s taking so long?

But everything needed a proper disguise. She indeed had to play one teeny tiny mind trick with you to put her grand plan in motion.

When she extended you an offer, Hyejin absolutely despised herself for even pretending she would do anything to harm Minhyuk or his beloved dojo. She just took advantage of the bond you had with your father, fully aware you wouldn’t do anything to put him in danger. Bluffing to that extent was a huge leap of faith maybe, but you took the bait. That was what mattered at the end of the day.

The only way Minhyuk was not going to object to this deal was to make it a mutual agreement. His gigantic pride was always in the way of him asking for or receiving any kind of help—there was absolutely no way he would accept it if Hyejin insisted she wanted to take on the responsibility of your education. Yes, she had other items on her agenda, as well, but your future was genuinely among the top of her priorities to even begin to make it up to your parents for what they had done for her.

Therefore, it wasn’t a complete lie when she posed the condition of you serving The Royal Family in an instructional capacity. She knew about Minhyuk training you for years. She knew this was the perfect opportunity to assign you as an assistant to the Military Arts program that just happened to be Chris’ major.

But more importantly, this put the parties on equal grounds: you were going to receive something by offering something in return, effectively eliminating the concept of ‘charity’ from Minhyuk’s mind. As far as she was concerned, this was a fair trade.

Then came the more tricky part. 

The only reason Hyejin wanted to move you to the guesthouse was to give you privacy so that you wouldn’t feel like you were being watched like she actually was for years. On the other hand, the knowledge of Hyunjin building an entire playground there made her anxious to no end. She couldn’t let it be known to her younger son that she was very much aware of what he was up to, but she was also worried that Hyunjin was not going to let you be. You were a bit too fascinating to stay away from.

Please. He’s going to relentlessly tempt you. Charm you. Make you feel like you’re the only thing that matters to him, but it’s not true. He’s not the one for you. Resist him. Please.

It was nothing more than wishful thinking of course. Somewhere along the way, something she couldn’t quite figure out had happened to her sunshine. He used to be a boy that appreciated the small beauties life had to offer. He used to chase butterflies. He used to have such a delicate soul. Then all of a sudden he had turned into this insatiable demon that was eerily reminiscent of some late tyrant. It wasn’t long before she heard the message on the wind about you and Hyunjin.

What have you done, sunshine? Why are you throwing tantrums this time?

She was indeed disappointed, but this wasn’t your fault. Not one bit. Hyunjin was his father’s son, and that ugly truth was bound to resurface at some point.

On one particularly deep, dark night, Hyejin had enough of the commotion going on inside her head and ran down the dimly lit corridors leading to The Zen Room. Barefoot. With only her nightgown on, her hair flowing past her waist looking like a charcoal stream rushing down her back. She walked into the room, panting, looking at the scripts she decorated the walls with, and thought about Minhyuk. Then she slowly made her way to the interior garden and caressed the jasmines and forget-me-nots she planted there with tears running down her face unbeknownst to her. She thought about Jun. She thought about James. She thought about Chris, about you, and that was when she started to doubt her own sanity.

Had she been clinging onto the ghost of something all this time? Did she read a little too much into it maybe? Was she indeed trying to force fate into something she just wished to see?

She knew her treasure was falling for you. She could swear you felt the same way too, but why didn’t it happen already? Did she miscalculate something in this formula for happiness that didn’t really exist? Did she spectacularly fail to read between the lines?

“One sign,” she whispered to the delicate flowers, “All I need is one sign for better or worse. Then I promise I’ll let it go.”

The sign Hyejin had asked for had appeared in the form of her own son basically confessing his feelings for you, immediately prompting her to think about one last scheme. 

“Is it the young lady from your prom night?” 

“No.” 

“Is it one of your current classmates?” 

“No.”

Say yes. Please say yes to this.

“Is it perhaps our guest that’s currently residing with us?” 

“Mother, please, drop it!!!” 

Anybody in their right mind would try to come up with enabling scenarios, but knowing her own son, Hyejin found inspiration someplace else.

Apples.

One time when Chris was little, he became so sick that he was strictly ordered to consume fluids, yet all he kept yelling about was his beloved bunny apples. Just once. He was getting better already so once wouldn’t hurt. Could he pretty please get just one piece with a cherry on top?

“Doctor’s orders, Chrissy. I’ll bring you your apples when they say you can eat them, okay?”

He couldn’t even last one day. Chris sneaked into the kitchen after his mom fell asleep just so he could sink his teeth into a yellow apple, and alerted the entire floor with the ruckus he caused in the meantime.

“Baby, why are you being so stubborn? You can’t eat them yet!”

Why the goddamn apples? Should she have been worried? Was this an indication of something lacking in his body? Or did he just simply have a sweet tooth?

“But they comfort me,” her boy had told her with his huge guilty eyes.

You and Chris were a little too alike, and she hoped from the bottom of her heart that it also held true when it came to a certain disregard for the rules. Especially if it included taking away something you really really wanted to have.

You are not to see him again after that and you will not divulge this information to him.

Once upon a time, a king wasn’t able to stop her from falling crazily in love with a man. This was just a test to confirm her hypothesis that not even a queen could come between you two, not that she had any intention to.

Anything you can do, I can do better.

Sibling rivalry was such a commonplace thing. You went through it even if you were two kids in line for the throne, or going to school hand in hand pretending to be civilians. It could be due to many reasons—because you wanted to be liked better; because you wanted to establish dominance over the other; because some friendly competition could be a motivation to do more, achieve more. If one kept losing to the other, on the other hand, it could turn into something ugly.

Jealousy. Resentment. Grudge.

Chris and Hyunjin did not really have the said rivalry between them per se. Every time one of them fell, the other was there. Covered up for each other whenever they could because they had each other and they would never leave one another. That was the one thing carved into their minds as they were growing up.

I love you both just the same.

Yeah right.

For some inexplicable reason, deep down Hyunjin knew their mother had a massive soft spot for his older brother. She had a favorite. Chris always got away with things with much fewer consequences than Hyunjin did. If and when he was scolded, it wasn’t as angry. When he was grounded, it was for a shorter period of time. Occasionally, she was more formal with Hyunjin. More distant. Less affectionate. The double standard frequently made him think about whether he was adopted or not. 

He watched himself shut down after they were informed of the sentence they both had to serve because of Chris. Until their adult ceremonies. A couple of years was not that big of a deal, but when you started counting down the days, they indeed felt neverending. It indeed felt like someone was playing an annoying prank on him by erasing some of the crosses he had already put on his calendar. The time just wouldn’t pass. 

Maybe he needed to make the most of it if it wasn't going to pass. Rumor had it that time went by quicker if you were having fun, but the aforementioned fun just could not be induced by simple stuff anymore, could they?

It had to be derived from the most outrageous things possible because fuck a double standard.

Hyunjin had established somewhat of a routine until you came along. When he laid his eyes on you, he initially thought you could have some fun together, but he most certainly did not plan on catching inadvertent feelings towards you. He couldn’t figure out what exactly those feelings were—he just knew it was a couple of shades different than what he experienced when he borrowed a night from a stranger. And it was growing stronger.

I can do anything better than you.

It would have been fine maybe. It would have been fine if it was someone else other than the person who kept reminding him he was always going to be the second best. The second choice. The second rate. His mother was supposed to summon him any day now to discuss what he’d like for his own adult ceremony, and when Hyunjin witnessed how you and Chris fucking devoured each other in your bed that he was never once invited to, he just felt…

Let's just say inspired.

“You know me, mother. I’d like to pay respects to our roots.”

“There is such profound beauty in the classical indeed, isn’t there?”

Why of course. The guillotine was also such a classic, wasn’t it? Everybody knew what it was.

“There’s something else I’d like to talk to you about,” Hyunjin placed his china cup delicately on the saucer and assumed a semi-serious expression, “I need your word that you’re not going to consult to reprimands after what I’m about to divulge to you. It’s about Chris.”

“Is everything okay?”

“Your word. You’re not gonna punish him.” 

Is this… Is this what I think it is?

“Very well. You have my word.”

“Actually, it is more than okay,” he smiled at his mother, “You’re familiar with our resident guest, right?”

“Yes?”

“I have reason to believe she and Chris are really suitable for each other.”

Words were simply not enough to describe the satisfaction that came from this declaration. Hyejin was right. She was right all along. It took a substantial amount of willpower not to crack and smile back at him.

“How so?”

She goddamn knew how so. Chris thought he was being all slick, but Hyejin heard it on the grapevine that you two might have been running off into the night recently.

“Just a gut feeling,” Hyunjin responded calmly.

Because I know they’re fucking each other, mother.

“Are you saying they are involved?”

“You could say that.”

Hyejin couldn’t believe it. Call it fate, a self-fulfilling prophecy, or a simple coincidence, but what she had been claiming for years indeed came true. She had a hunch you two were up to something, but Hyunjin basically confirmed it for her. You and Chris had passed her unnecessarily complex test.

“I’d like her to escort Chris during my adult ceremony.”

Hyejin furrowed her brows in confusion at her son’s very unusual request, “Well, that’s highly irregular. Escort duties are not for the guests.”

“I know, but don’t you think this is a great opportunity to test drive a public debut?”

It indeed would be. It could be a reason to open the gates of the grounds again. It could be the reason happiness could rush through these stone corridors again. She agreed.

“Don’t tell him that, though. I want it to be a surprise,” Hyunjin appealed to his mother one last time before he left, “He’s been through enough, mother. Give him this.”

Now we’re even.

Two birds with one stone: a cold dish of revenge and a gift for himself. Just like how he took away Hyunjin’s one chance at happiness because he couldn’t help himself, he was going to take away his brother’s, too, and it had to be during his adult ceremony. It had to be a very bitter reminder of a night that was supposed to be a celebration, and it had to turn into a post-apocalyptic wasteland afterwards. Chris obviously wasn’t going to still want you after learning the truth. He wasn’t like Hyunjin—he didn’t know how to swallow his pride. It could take some effort on Hyunjin’s part to convince you why you belonged with him, but you would eventually come around. Everybody eventually came around.

He would know what a gigantic presumption that was if he exerted some effort to get to know you just a little bit instead of your body.

Hyujin couldn’t really calculate how much his attempt would backfire and push you to make the decision to leave the estate instead. He waited and waited and waited for some retaliation, but all he got in return was a whole lot of nothing. Watching his brother turn a little more sullen every day, descending into the fatal depths of melancholy revealed a dusty film at the back of his mind. 

Every time Hyunjin fell, Chris was there. Covered up for him whenever he could because they had each other and they would never leave one another. That was the one thing carved into their minds as they were growing up.

What Hyunjin had for you seemed way different than what Chris had. Maybe he had indeed confused his feelings for you with something else. Maybe there was a reason why he felt so inferior to his older brother. All Hyunjin knew was lust, yet Chris seemed to know better. He couldn’t help but think about what would change if you were gone from his life for good versus his brother’s. He thought about it for a long time.

It took some guts to finally admit it, but maybe you were Chris’ fire girl. Every once in a while she would pop into Hyunjin’s mind again, and his heart would ache. So much But that was in the past. If she knew what he had turned into, she would hate him.

The brothers had talked about being free for so long. They had dreamed about it. When Hyunjin was imprisoned, doing scandalous things was just his way of throwing a fit. So that he would be told he was not worthy. So that he would be let go. But then you appeared. You made his sentence bearable. Gave him a taste of something he had been missing for quite some time. Something that tasted very much like a piece of glazed cake.

Hyunjin was so consumed with vengeance vision that it caused him to lose perspective of a lot of things, which ended up scarring the one person he deep down cared about in this world. He couldn’t control himself for one night much like his brother, but then again, Chris would never come up with intricate plans to purposefully hurt him. He had just fallen a victim to his emotions some years ago.

Freedom. What a valuable thing. Yet no amount of money in this world was enough to have it. 

If you were willing to pay the price on the other hand…

Cut the cord.

He knew what he had to do to put an end to all this. He had to pull one last number. 

Even if it cost him his brother.

“Hello, brother. Going somewhere?”

Chris heard the door close and the lock being turned behind him. His eyes had turned into flamethrowers threatening to burn the entire place down out of sheer fury.

“We had each other, huh? We were supposed to never leave one another.”

“Yet you were about to,” Hyunjin disapprovingly tsked, “Here I am clinging to my older brother not to leave me. I’m doing exactly what I’m supposed to be doing.”

“Why are you doing this?”

“Christopher the Great,” Hyunjin deliberately raised his voice and then segued to a diminuendo, “Loved by everyone. His subjects. His friends. His mother. Even by the one woman his little brother has fallen for.”

“What would you even know about love, Hyun?”

“Not to mention, she’s not even pure blood,” he contorted his face like he was reciting ridiculous facts, “What were you even thinking?”

“What were you thinking?”

“I’m afraid if I can’t have her, no one can.”

“ENOUGH!!!” 

The brothers were so engrossed in getting on each other’s nerves that they didn’t even hear the door open. Hyejin walked into her chambers with her eyes moist due to an alloy of rage and sorrow. She stopped right in front of her older son and declared with all the seriousness that ruled her being.

“You have my blessing if you accept to be the next in line, Christopher.

Chris froze in his place. So did Hyunjin, but for entirely different reasons. 

You’re going to ruin this, mother. 

“Just… Don’t go,” Hyejin’s voice trembled while squeezing her son's arms.

If she gave him the one thing he wanted, he would stay. He would stay forever and he would be happy. He could be happy here. There was absolutely no reason to leave.

“Please,” she begged as the tears ran down her face. Meanwhile, Hyunjin was drilling a hole in Chris’ face with his eyes.

Go. Don’t fall for it. At least one of us is capable of being decent and that’s not me.

When Chris finally made eye contact with his brother, he noticed something. His composure was still intact, but he was looking at him with almost pleading eyes. Like he was asking him to read between the lines. To get the message. 

He remembered this exact look from somewhere. 

High school sophomore year. Hyunjin knew Chris and his bandmates had been planning to break into the gym on a Friday after school and spend the night there. No matter how much he had begged his brother not to do it, Chris just turned a deaf ear to him.

“You’re too uptight, Hyun. You really need to loosen up a little. Nothing’s going to happen.”

“Something’s going to happen. Don’t go.”

“I’m being very careful. Mom and dad think we’ll be at practice for the upcoming competition. We’re not gonna get busted.”

“Not everything is about that, for fuck’s sake. You’re gonna get hurt!”

“Stop being paranoid, Hyun.”

Stubborn. He was just so fucking stubborn. He wouldn’t listen to him ever. Chris was furious to no end when Hyunjin appeared next to their homeroom teacher like he wanted to make it clear he was the one snitching on his brother stealing the gym keys. They had exchanged this exact same look that day when Chris received detention. Little did he know all Hyunjin was trying to do was to prevent his brother from getting beaten up to a pulp because ‘the drummer dude needed to be in bad shape’ to pass on the competition. The invasion of their gym by the delinquents of the neighboring high school was the talk of everyone for the following week.

Please, Chris. Do it for us. Leave. Be free. For good.

Chris’ eyes darted from Hyunjin to his mother and he almost spat the words.

“This throne and everything that reminds me of it can kindly go to goddamn hell, your highness.”

One day they could talk about it maybe. One day Chris would understand Hyunjin’s intentions behind what he did.

But today was not that day.

Chris and his mother’s deal was carved in stone: he had to prove himself if he wanted to be ‘ordinary’. Even if it killed her inside, she agreed to watch her older son forfeit everything and walk away from this life. Sending off a loved one into oblivion and not knowing if they would ever come back was a familiar feeling for Hyejin. She had done it once before. About two decades ago to be precise.

“You asked for me, mother?”

“Yes.”

Hyejin had called Hyunjin for their ritual Sunday tea. They would usually spend their mornings having a long and calm breakfast, talking about benign things as if they weren’t tiptoeing around much deeper stuff and being sarcastic with each other. That particular Sunday, she didn’t feel the need to observe the formalities and cut straight to the chase.

“Why did you do it?”

He also knew there was no point in trying to drag some things anymore. He took a long sip from his tea, eyes still on his mother’s, and calmly responded.

“If I didn’t give him a reason to leave for good, you were going to lure him back here again. Next thing you know, he can’t leave the grounds because he fucking breathed.” 

“That kind of language is highly redundant, Hyunjin.”

“I know how your mind works. You can deny it all you want, but I take after you, your highness,” he irritably smiled, “It’s okay if he hates me for the rest of his life, but I know it’s gonna kill you.”

“So you want to hurt me that much,” she reciprocated his smile with moist eyes.

“Somebody needed to remind you of the taste of your own medicine. You seem to have forgotten it.”

Hyejin looked at her son and heaved a tired sigh. There was nothing but bitterness and animosity radiating from him, but it wasn’t his fault. It wasn’t even his father’s fault—he hadn’t touched Hyunjin’s soul one bit. Whatever he had turned into, whatever he harbored inside him was the responsibility of only one person, and that was her.

“With Christopher gone, I need to name an heir. That means you’re going to be—”

“No.”

No? What did he mean no? She was offering him unlimited power to do whatever he pleased, what else was he asking for?

“Isn’t this what you’ve wanted all along?”

Hyunjin looked at her with an expression that almost spelled disdain.

“That’s really what you thought I wanted? A life sentence?” he questioned, somewhat nauseated, “I just wanted to be me, mother. I didn’t feel like taking you up on your challenge is all.”

“You do realize someone has to—”

“If you want this prison to remain intact, I suggest broadening your filters for an heir. Someone from the royal council would be nice.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

He leaned into the white iron table and clasped his hands on it as the Sunday morning breeze brushed his hair.

“It means the second you announce my coronation and blast me to the public, I’m going to indulge in the most abominable things this reign has ever seen and force this entire lineage to fall from grace. Horrendously,” he tilted his head and posed his tranquil threat, “You’re welcome to try me.”

Hyejin was feeling the walls closing in on her, literally watching her other son also slipping away from her with every word he uttered. She felt tired. She felt defeated. She felt like she was coming back from war and she had no life left within herself anymore. Maybe that was why she wasn’t as quick with her retorts as she used to be.

“You held us captive here for years because of what? The man wanted to kiss someone.” 

“It’s not as easy as that, Hyunjin.”

“Nothing absolves what we’ve been through, mother.”

“Oh, is that so? Were you struggling while having the time of your life with your little playthings?”

Hyunjin’s face turned a couple of shades lighter at first for he was caught off guard, but it quickly returned to its original state.

“You knew, didn’t you? You knew what I was doing all this time,” he squinted his eyes, “Why did you let me get away with it?”

She was a queen. She was one of the strongest queens this country had ever seen. She was beauty. She was grace. She was the living epitome of what royalty should have looked and acted like.

But at the end of the day, she was still a mother.

“I can’t stand anything about this place,” Hyejin’s voice completely cracked, “I just couldn’t bear the thought of my sons leaving me to rot in this hell forever.”

“Even though you hated me?”

“I don’t hate you, Hyunjin.”

“But you don’t love me either, mother.”

“That’s not true,” she immediately replied and gestured the place next to her on the swing, “Come here.”

When Hyunjin sat down beside her, she pulled him close and laid his head down on her lap, which took him by surprise. She hadn’t done this in forever. It was such a distant memory that Hyunjin wasn’t sure whether he just saw it in a dream or not.

“There was one person I hated from the bottom of my soul, but it’s not you. It’s never been you,” she kept caressing his golden hair like she did when he was a kid, “But I acknowledge that it wasn’t fair to you that I projected it all on you. You remind me so much of him.”

“Father?” he looked up at her. She nodded in response.

“But you are you. Instead of using your beautiful face as a placeholder, I should have learned to make my peace with things,” she choked back her sobs, “I apologize.”

Hyunjin was temporarily teleported to the weekend mornings of his childhood. The frame in front of his eyes had a sepia filter. His mother looked younger. Happier. Lively. And she was kissing his hair.

You’re not my son. You’re my sun. You’re the most beautiful thing ever.

As if she was able to see what he was seeing with every stroke on her boy’s head, Hyejin softly uttered.

“You’re never going to stop being my sun. Ever.”

“Even though I’m broken beyond repair?”

“So what?”

He felt some wetness on his face like it started to rain all of a sudden. Hyejin was crying. So was Hyunjin. He slowly sat up and pulled his mother into his embrace. Maybe for the first time even.

“Do you want to be you?” she caressed her boy’s face as porcelain as hers, “Be you, sunshine. Be you away from here. You don’t deserve these chains, either. Nobody does.”

What a failure that this beautiful man felt like he had to do what he had to do because of her. What a catastrophe that she wasn’t able to save her son from himself when she could. What an absolute tragedy that she let herself be so haunted by the ghosts of her past that she wasn’t able to hear her sunshine’s cries for help, not until after his voice was completely gone.

“Just please don’t hate me anymore,” Hyejin let all the sobs she had been choking finally run free.

“Mom.”

Hyunjin placed a kiss on his mother’s forehead. Definitely for the first time. Yoongi had never kissed her forehead once. Maybe he wasn’t completely his father’s son after all.

“I don’t hate you. I just…” he tried his utmost best to avoid any landmines that could hurt her for once, “It’s just not fair that we were born into this.”

No, it wasn’t. None of this was fair. For anyone. If only she had the power to turn back time and do it all over again… She wouldn’t be able to promise to be mistake-free, but she would at least live to make her treasures happy the second time around.

“Don’t you ever want to be normal?”

“It doesn’t come with this job, sunshine,” Hyejin smiled through her tears, “It’s going to hurt so much at first, but I’ll be fine knowing my boys are happy somewhere. I will survive.”

“Or not.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” she creased her brows in confusion.

“Didn’t you ever wish to be free?” he insisted, “Didn’t you ever wish to just be?”

“I wish I could, baby,” Hyejin squeezed his warm hands, “I really wish I could.”

“What if you can?”

Only Hyunjin would think of a solution as insane as this. Only he would propose to be reborn from their ashes in the pursuit of happiness. His tone was as nonchalant as it could ever be as if he was only suggesting an evening stroll.

“You do realize we have the means to fake our deaths, right?”

«TO BE CONTINUED»

AUTHOR'S NOTE

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badboy!san

a part of you wishes that you listened to wooyoung more carefully when he first warned you about his roommate. 

that you really sat down and considered what your best friend of six years was telling you, so warningly and cautiously, almost with a preconceived look of fear and sympathy in his eyes. 

like he knew, in just a matter of months, you’d be completely ruined and destroyed by the first boy you’d ever been with. 

“whatever you do, y/n, please, just stay away from choi san, okay?” wooyoung begged quietly, his tone the most serious and soft spoken you’d heard in your life from him.

“you have to promise me.”

but you heard the words and pushed them off carelessly, promised him with a roll of your eyes and a scoff that followed that of course, if he really wants, you’d stay away from choi san.

❥ part 1

❥ part 2

❥ part 3

❥ part 4

❥ part 5

❥ part 6

❥ part 7

❥ part 8

❥ part 9

❥ part 10

❥ part 11

❥ part 12

status: complete

playlist (thank you ❤️‍🔥 anon): https://open.spotify.com/playlist/3gkBWfsydZc5v12OtdWXyE?si=VLCLqVWGTq-KpJErQcWi9A

tag list: @mochibabycakes​ @atinyarmyx1​ @baekhvuns​ @bunbaebae​ @markleeyeosang​ @nlost21​ @cherryeonii​ @hwaven​ @lost-midnight-flower​ @toothlessshiber​ @utopiakys​ @seonghwanotes​

couldn’t tag: @harry-the-pottypus @marksflvr @inkigayeo @hyunjeansuniverse 

Freak Show Talk | 3racha, lmh

𝙭𝙭𝙞𝙞𝙞. 𝙜𝙤 𝙖𝙝𝙚𝙖𝙙 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙘𝙧𝙮, 𝙡𝙞𝙩𝙩𝙡𝙚 𝙜𝙞𝙧𝙡

! fwb, free use ft. all, fujoshi fem reader, poly, enm, angst, smut, dead dove do not eat. <1k wc. 18+ readers only !

「Contents List」 「Act 1」  「© Nov 2023 by jl-micasea-fics」

“Either my eyes are playing major tricks on me, or you’re positively glowing, darling.”

Minho’s observation takes you not so much by surprise as by the throat. In fairness, the chances of returning to an empty apartment were slim. You knew this was coming.

“Who, me?” you scoff.

“No, all the other people here.” He rolls his eyes. “Yes, you.”

You turn to your phone as an alternative to facing Minho’s discerning eye, all-seeing fucker that it is. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

He hums, unconvinced, closes his laptop, and stretches his legs out from where they were tucked under him. “How was your shift?”

You shrug, scrolling very deliberately. “The usual caffeinated nightmare. Supervisor Jin kept us an extra hour for ‘training’. There’s only so many ways to make a damn coffee, you know? I mean; I guess he has, like, a quota or whatever to hit with staff training so I get it, but he could at least make it interesting. Or beneficial. Or marginally better than what I imagine death to feel like.”

You glance up; Minho regards you with cool complacency, chin in the palm of his hand. Blinking slow. You keep talking.

“It makes me wonder on his personal life. Like, he must not get many chances to interact with people outside work. He’s the kind of guy that wants to stay an extra hour because going home is worse than being at work which, like; imagine that? Couldn’t be me. I just think he’s—”

“Baby.”

Minho’s calm address is a sledgehammer to your rambling.

“What’s going on?” he asks.

You blink, shrug. “Nothing. Nothing’s going on.”

“You’re spiralling.”

“No.”

He huffs a sigh. “Do I have to make this an argument to get the truth out of you? I’d really rather not.”

Guilt kicks in your chest. “No. No, you don’t. Sorry. I just—” You toss your phone to the sofa. “I did a thing.”

Minho shifts his laptop aside, rises from the armchair and slots gracefully beside you on the two-seater. He takes your hand to stroke it. Warm. Comforting. Him.

“Tell me,” he says.

“I don’t know if I can. Feel kind of guilty.”

“Well, now I'm intrigued.”

“Min...”

He pats your hand. “Guilt is usually born from regret. Be upfront with me and you’ll have no reason to feel guilty.”

Which makes a sort of sense, you suppose. You didn’t tell Minho you were meeting Changbin, didn’t tell him of your attraction (glaringly obvious though you feel it is). What exists for you as fact has been dirtied by the brush of secrecy— you wouldn’t normally protest, and yet:

“I fucked Changbin.”

Minho’s brows knit, then relax, then come back together. His hold on your hand loosens. His mouth opens and shuts. He runs his hands through his ash-blonde waves.

“You had sex?” he asks, pitch higher than usual.

You nod.

“I— When?”

“Just.”

“Just?”

“Today. After work. At his parents record store. I met him there, we hung out a bit, and—”

“Then he put his dick in you.”

He did. God, he did.

Minho folds his arms. “So?”

“So, what?”

“Was he good?”

“Min—”

“No, come on. We can talk about it. It’s fine.”

“Is it?”

“Yeah. I want to hear about it. If you’re down for sharing.” He drops a hand to your thigh, breath hitching. This scenario only exists in the filthiest recesses of your little black box, amongst the cobwebs and discarded gimp masks. He shouldn’t want to know. Why would he want to know?

Heart pounding, you answer him. “He was good.”

“Yeah?”

“Mhm.”

His hand travels up your thigh. Whatever he’s easing you into, you’re not sure you’re equipped for it. Fear that it might debilitate, because a single sentence—a single word—from him could expose her; the pathetic thing that writhes beneath your skin and would push through given half a chance.

Then he says it.

He says it, and it’s just—

“Tell me what he did to you.”

𝙥𝙡𝙚𝙖𝙨𝙚 𝙡𝙞𝙠𝙚, 𝙧𝙚𝙗𝙡𝙤𝙜, 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙡𝙚𝙖𝙫𝙚 𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙧 𝙩𝙝𝙤𝙪𝙜𝙝𝙩𝙨 𝙛𝙤𝙧 𝙢𝙚 𝙩𝙤 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙 ♡ 𝙨𝙪𝙥𝙥𝙤𝙧𝙩 𝙢𝙚 𝙤𝙣 𝙠𝙤-𝙛𝙞 ♡

< 𝙥𝙧𝙚𝙫𝙞𝙤𝙪𝙨 | 𝙣𝙚𝙭𝙩 >

lovers in the night (m.)

pairing/wc; j.yunho x reader (11.3k) genre; sugar daddy au, exes to lovers summary; just out of your college with a freshly printed degree, you set out for a job that would fit your somewhat high standards. after a brief scroll through a sugar daddy website and a meeting set-up, you sit across from the one man you didn't expect to see — jeong yunho, your ex-boyfriend and apparently, a millionaire looking for someone to spoil.

warnings; smut (protected) (in the car ;-;), references to break-ups, heartache, lots of cursing, vomit mentions (does not happen, just referenced), reader is a bit mean but for reasons, miscommunication referenced (past)

part of the ...and it's snowing collab

The ad is absurd enough that you’re shocked you pressed on it in the first place.

Seekingsugar.com. Created for people looking for outside assistance in their financial woes. Income level required to be at a certain level. You could only snort at the number, over twice what you make now. Why someone would need assistance having that much funds for themselves is beyond you, but you digress.

Your finger hovers over the sign-up button. Your degree has gotten you a junior position at a law firm, but it isn’t enough to support yourself, your apartment, and the ever growing interest on the loans you’ve taken out. Enough so that you press the button, inputting your information swiftly before being presented with the homepage. You decide to hide your face in the profile photo to remain anonymous, hoping it would be enticing enough to grab someone’s attention.

Your description is fairly simple: your age, occupation – as vague as you can be – and list of interests. You also add that you’ve just graduated with your master’s degree, and you’re looking for someone to help. After putting enough photos up on your profile, you close your phone, throwing your blanket over your body and falling asleep soon enough.

...

The blaring of your alarm pulls you from your sleep, exhaustion encasing your body as you fling your hand to turn it off. You glance at the time, brows furrowed once you see the notifications. You wouldn’t consider yourself a popular person, a few text messages from your friends every so often, maybe one from your boss (of which you ignore until you’re fully awake). But now, you see dozens of notifications from the app you downloaded last night. You press your finger against the fingerprint reader, almost blinded by the amount of messages in your inbox. A lot are lewd, which was expected. You almost delete the app itself after a moment of clarity, until one particular message stands out from the rest.

yulips - isn’t it such a disaster?

Your brows furrow at the message. What exactly is he speaking of? Recognition breaks through your fogged mind, remembering the status message that you put before you slept: cannot believe i have to resort to asking people for money instead of relying on my employment.

You open his profile. It’s pretty simple - he owns an undisclosed company worth more money than you can even imagine. It’s verified by the site, so he’s legit. His profile states that he’s reached out to five potential receivers, as they call it. Photographs are similar to yours, pictures of scenery. Face hidden. And his age is around yours as well, give or take a year. Ignoring the bitterness that dwells beneath the surface at his net worth, you open his message, quickly replying before starting your day.

dandelion - i just simmer at my desk hoping that someday my manager would walk in and tell me my salary has doubled. unfortunately hasn’t happened yet :( 3

  Your day is busy, most of it spent away from your phone as you try to diminish the caseload. Despite it being the middle of winter (and it actively snowing daily), work hasn’t stopped in the slightest. Clients call to complain about their invoices, calls from other attorneys wanting to speak with certain individuals, your workload barely dented due to the endless notes you had to take. By the end of the day, you’re exhausted, body seemingly moving on its own as you slump into the train seat. Luckily you made it on before everyone else, bodies squishing into the car. You hold your bag close to your chest, finally open your phone. A message from this morning, about five minutes after you sent yours, sits in your inbox.

yulips - overworking employees is neverending, especially in the legal sector. i can count on one hand how many times i’ve been praised while working as an undergraduate at a firm. pretty positive the place is closed now though, so maybe that’s a plus

“Ah, so you were a lawyer?” You murmur.

dandelion - EXACTLY. weary as hell even now after my long day

You don’t expect a response right away, about to put your phone into your bag. It vibrates almost instantly, the night sky profile picture glowing on your screen. So he’s around to talk, then?

yulips - if you’re up to it, i can take you out myself to get some fresh air.

dandelion - you don’t even know my name, yulips. why would i agree to go out with a virtual stranger? you silly man

yulips - messaging isn’t really my thing, i guess. but if you’re not comfortable with meeting me right away, it’s fine with me. i still want to speak with you. hope this will make you feel better.

Another notification appears above his messages, your brow raised.

Yulips has sent you funds. Please review before accepting.

You gasp loudly, people on the train turning around to look at you. Apologizing profusely, you sink further into the seat, feverishly typing back to him.

dandelion - why did you send that??

yulips - i like you. and i want you to know i’m serious about continuing to talk to you. we can meet whenever you’re comfortable.

The amount of money he sent is enough to pay a month’s rent on your apartment, with a little left over. Your nerves rise, wariness creeping in. He’s verified, but he could be a creep. This website can only find out so much about these rich people. You could be setting yourself up for something horrendous. This was all silly, in the beginning. You didn’t think you’d get this far in communication with someone. Having that much money sent to you because he felt a little bad? Your mind just cannot comprehend it.

dandelion - this is too much.

You continue to stare at the amount, another message popping up.

yulips - you deserve it.

You cannot accept it. Not now, at least. Not until you speak to him more.

dandelion - how about i let it sit there until we learn more about one another? i know you’re serious, but i’d like to get to know you before anything else.

yulips - fine by me, my dandelion.

...

Weeks pass, the amount still sitting in the app. He’s quite hilarious - more often than not he messages you throughout his meetings, describing to you how exhausting it is to pretend to care. But he also tells you things you’ve never though of, how his business works from the inside, how his employees hide things despite him knowing of it. How he’s passionate about his work and wants the best, but doesn’t want to diminish the quality of his work for gains. He’s interesting to speak to, most of your day spent dwelling on how he’s doing. It’s humorous, being attached to a stranger through an app. He calls you his dandelion each time you message, teasing responses back and forth.

He hasn’t sent anything else since that initial amount, nor has he brought it up. You’ve been staring at it in your inbox, still debating on whether to accept it. The payment for your apartment is coming up soon and you can afford to pay it now without his money, but you’ll be living on scraps for the next two weeks until your next paycheck.

You sit on the park bench, scarf and hat wrapped around you as you message him.

dandelion - have the other people you've spoken to refuse to accept the money you gave them?

As always, his response is quick.

yulips - no.

You bite your lip, thinking. His chat bubbles appear.

yulips - i’ve sent money to two others. but we haven’t spoken as much as i speak to you. once they accepted the initial amount, they never contacted me back. it’s their prerogative, of course. but i made this account for more than just that.

dandelion - why did you make this account?

yulips - i was lonely.

Knowing him, or enough of him now, the message makes your chest tight. Loneliness holds every hostage, even completely different classes of wealth. Money does make people happy, it would make you happy. But rarely does it ever bring in true companionship. You don’t doubt that he’s been used often. You snort, rolling your eyes. Who would’ve thought that you would feel bad for someone like him?

dandelion - why did you send the money to me almost immediately then?

yulips - im used to being ignored, i guess. ive grown used to others asking that it was just an automatic response to send it to you. i apologize if it was offensive, that's not my intention. i just want you to stay around a while.

dandelion - did you think i'd leave, do you think i’m less than you because i don’t have the amount of wealth you do?

yulips - no.

yulips - never.

yulips - i’m not one to judge someone based on their economic circumstances.

yulips - and i don’t think you’re using me if you were wondering that. everyone falls on hard times, especially now. i wanted a friend, and wanted to help someone if i could. i didn’t realize how much we would speak. and that money is there for you, my dandelion.

You open your inbox, staring at the options. You do need it, whether or not you can admit it to yourself. You press accept, immediately getting a notification from your bank that money has been deposited in your account. He messages you back promptly.

yulips - that’s my girl.

...

“This is stupid,” you murmur, rubbing your sides. “Why am I nervous?”

“You’ve been talking to this guy for over a month now, y/n,” Mingi points out, a lollipop resting between his lips. “And you have no idea what the hell he looks like except for his neck and hands. I would be shivering in my boots if I were you.”

You look at him, frowning, “You’re supposed to make me feel better, asshole.”

“I’ll be there with you the whole time. You’ll be safe, I promise you that,” he pokes your side. “I’m serious. Just tug on your hair twice and I’ll save you from the creep.”

“He’s not creepy,” you roll your eyes.

“Then what’s there to worry about!” he stands, tucking in a strand of your hair. “If he’s not an ass, then you’ve hit the jackpot. And he’s the same age as you and not an old man?” He whistles, hand resting on his hips. “At least you don’t have to deal with wrinkly di–”

You slap your hand on his mouth, scowling. “This is not a sex thing. It’s a I-need-your-money-or-else-i’ll-be-forever-in-debt thing. And if you’re going to act like this then I’ll just ask Hongjoong to come along instead. At least he’s somewhat normal.”

Mingi gasps, eyes wide. “Hongjoong? Over me, your best friend?”

“We’re best friends? News to me!”

“Ha ha ha, you’re hilarious.”

Your fingers play with the edges of the outfit, knowing that Yunho’s money paid for it. In fact, he picked out the outfit based on photos posted on your profile of things you enjoy. He actually chose it well, the fabric resting against your skin comfortably. You didn’t dare look up the price of it, Yunho sending the clothing through a feature in the app. It fits you too well, even. MIngi nudges your shoulder, pulling you out of your lurking thoughts.

“I’m here for you, y/b. You know that, right? I’m joking. I won’t let anything happen to you.”

“I know,” you nudge him back, grabbing your bag. “Ready to go?”

...

The venue is expensive. Neither you nor Mingi ventured out into this neighborhood, the window displays of clothing enough to turn you back around. Everything dripped in wealth, from the people walking down the sidewalks to the streetlights wrapped in holiday decor. Mingi kept his thoughts to himself, but you could see the worry in his eyes as he parked. Yeosang, his partner, was to meet him at the restaurant and dine with Mingi, keeping a watchful eye over you. You get out of the car, tugging down your shirt as you make your way to the front. Pausing, you look back at Mingi.

“You don’t have to.”

He holds up his hand, stopping you. “I wore my fancy clothes for tonight. I’m not bailing out now.”

“I’m being serious,” you place your hand on his shirt, stopping him. “I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable because of me.”

“And I’m serious, y/n. I’m not leaving without you, and I’m staying here with you. Don’t worry too much, and enjoy the rich guy.”

Explaining to Mingi that the “rich guy” feels like more than that to you would be pointless, so you merely nod. You enter first to not be seen with him, telling the hostess your name. Yulips told you that it would be reserved under dandelion. She smiles brightly at you, gesturing to the stairs behind her. It’s sectioned off, a reserved gate blocking everyone else from entering. You take a breath, thanking her and following. Taking a quick glance back, Mingi looks up at you with worry as he’s guided to the main hall. You nod at him in encouragement as he disappears from your sight.

Well, so much for him keeping an eye on you.

Your phone vibrates almost immediately, his icon popping up.

mingi - i should’ve known he would reserve a WHOLE fucking floor !!!! oh my god i hate rich people.

y/n - it’s fine, i’ll message you if anything is up.

mingi - still taking you home btw, i’ll wait in that car all night until i see you coming out…!>!>!

y/n - love u :(

mingi - :*

As Mingi said, the floor is empty aside from one table already lit with candles, a small salad resting in front of each side. You thank her as you sit, hands sweaty. He hasn’t messaged you at all today aside from a quick morning text, telling you how excited he is to see you. You doubt you’d be stood up, but what if this is some experiment for him? He is who he says he is from the website verification, but something could happen. You just don’t know.

“My dandelion?”

A man speaks up behind you, oddly familiar in tone. You stand, a small smile on your lips. It drops upon meeting the eyes of the man there. His eyebrows furrow, lips parting as he looks down at you. He holds a bundle of dandelions and tulips in his hand, fingers tightening around the stems.

Both of you speak at once.

“Yunho?”

“y/n?”

“Are you…” he trails off, looking down. “It makes so much sense now, hell.”

“How does this make any sense, Yunho? How could you be him?” You dig through your thoughts, finding nothing hinting at him being the same as the man you’ve been communicating with for weeks now. You open the app, immediately digging through the photos. You pause at the profile picture of him holding tulips. Never in your life did you think you would run into him on a sugar baby app. But you can see it now. The small necklace he wears with his birthday in roman numerals. He’s worn it since you’ve known him.

Knew him.

“I didn’t think it would be you,” he admits softly. “I saw the photos and thought that you two looked similar, but when we were together, you rarely took pictures of anything. I just, I didn’t know.” He looks around. His brown hair is longer now than before, more toned than the freshman college student you remember. There’s a bit of a shadow on his cheeks, ears red as they always are. His suit is expensive from just a mere glance, fitted and tailored to his body. He looks… good. You just didn’t think you’d be seeing your ex-boyfriend right now.

“Should we call it a night?” he asks after a moment, eyes flicking to yours. “I don’t want to force you into whatever this has turned out to be.”

Without another word, you turn around, sitting back at the table. Yunho seemingly freezes at your actions, before walking around the table, slowly sitting down. He places the dandelions in the vase to the side of both of you, swallowing slowly.

“Are we really going to do this right now?”

You shrug, taking a sip of the wine in front of you. “I don’t know, are we?”

“Hello Mr. Jeong and miss, what can I get you started with?” The waiter comes, interrupting the conversation. The frustrated look disappears off Yunho’s face.

“Whatever is easiest,” Yunho nods, and the waiter bows, quickly disappearing. You notice a kitchen on this floor, several staff inside cooking whatever Yunho has prepared. You look at him, his gaze stuck on you when you meet his eyes.

“Kinder to the staff than me,” you note, taking a small bite of the salad.

“I’ve been nice to you this whole time, y/n. Nothing that has come out from my mouth was foul.”

You merely snort, taking another bite of the salad, “Sure.”

The conversation ceases, quiet chewing the only sound heard from the two of you. Yunho seems to be stuck in his thoughts as are you, his gaze glued to his food. It’s not an uncomfortable silence, no, but it is strange. Sitting in front of your rich ex-boyfriend in an outfit he picked out for you. It’s silly even, the odds not in your favor in the slightest. The universe deciding that the two of you need to see each other again.

No matter the circumstances.

The waiter comes back soon after the lull in conversation, nervously placing down the plates in front of the two of you. You send him a warm smile and his body sighs in relief, leaving you two alone. Confused, you look up from your plate at Yunho. His jaw is tight, brows furrowed as he takes a bite of his food. Ah, perhaps the waiter thought Yunho was irritated with him.

“You could at least pretend to be nice,” you mumble, slowly taking a bite. You can only hold back your moan at how good the food is, trying to stay as neutral as possible in front of him. “The guy thinks you’re pissed off at him.”

His brows relax for a moment, a slow breath escaping him. “Why are we doing this?”

“You offered me dinner, Yunho. I’m not going to deny that.”

Your stomach twists the more you look at him, the pity only growing in size. You planned on marrying the man in front of you, planned your whole life out together. And now each time you look at him you think about the tears, the heartache.

“This isn’t good for either of us,” he says. “How the hell am I supposed to have a normal dinner when I’m sitting at a table with the girl who broke me?”

You scoff, “I? I broke you?”

“Did you forget you were the one who called everything off? You ended us.”

Your grip around the fork tightens. “I had to end things because you just didn’t care about us.”

“That’s not true--”

“Yunho, you were never home. Every fucking night I slept in that bed alone. I tried to make things work, I did. I dealt with that for years because I wanted you to be successful. I made you breakfast in the morning you didn’t eat and dinner in the evening you said you were too tired to swallow. I went to your study room and sat with you in silence because that was the only time we could spend together. I tried for you for years, but you didn’t try for me. I ended things because it seemed like I was the only one putting effort in for us. So I’m sorry that I want to enjoy a meal I can’t ever afford despite sitting at the table with the man that broke me. Not the other way around.”

His chopsticks hover over his plate, eyes glued to yours. There’s little anger in them. Yunho has always been an open book when it came to his feelings. The slight downturn of his lips, the focused gaze. The tremble of his hands. It reminds you of the night you told him over dinner that it would be the last. How he cried over the bed you shared, fists digging into the sheets as you grabbed your things. The broken I love you as you shut the door behind you, holding back your sobs long enough to break down once you parked in front of your friend’s house.

“You didn’t tell me.”

You didn’t. At the time you were so resolute in your decision that you didn’t bother to explain it to him. It should have been obvious, yes, but Yunho wasn’t around enough to see anything. You should have talked to him. The exhaustion of the situation was too much at the time for you to care about his feelings anymore.

“I know,” you say simply, taking another bite. “And if it means anything, I’m happy.”

“For?”

You look up at him. “I’m happy you’ve made it to where you are now. Those long nights led to something amazing, right? That’s all that matters now.”

“y/n–”

Your phone vibrates, your eyes flicking to the screen.

mingi - you did NOT update me on the rich guy ??? what’s going ON!!!!!!!!

You snort, opening his message and quickly typing back.

y/n - oh you’re going to lose it when i let you know what’s up later 😭

mingi - ARRRGGGHHHuhhhhh 🗣️

You put your phone face down, looking back at Yunho.

“Are you enjoying your meal?” The waiter comes back, body slightly turned towards you. You nod quickly, smiling.

“Thank you for your effort sir.” The waiter is flustered, rubbing his hands against his outfit as he glances between the both of you.

“Ah, there is no need to thank me miss. The next course will be coming shortly.” He speeds off, an amused smile on your face as you place your fork down.

“He’s a nervous wreck,” you point out, “What’d you tell him?”

“Nothing,” Yunho shrugs. “When I made a reservation, I told them to provide good service since I will be bringing a date. Nothing out of the ordinary.”

That could panic even the chefs in the kitchen. Especially given how wealthy he is, he could complain and ruin this whole restaurant. Surely he must know that. After a moment you grab your phone, quickly searching up his name. His face pops up in an instant. Largest shareholder of a vaguely familiar line of luxury hotels. It would take several months rent for you to even think of staying a night there without plummeting into more debt.

Yunho peeks at your screen, frowning once he sees what it is. You pull your phone closer to you. “Nosy.”

“You could have asked me.”

“You don’t seem up for conversation.”

“I’m trying to have a good time here, y/n,” his tone is exasperated now. “Were you not here to meet the man you’ve been talking with for months? Why search me up when you can just ask?”

You hold back another snide remark, placing your phone into your bag and looking at him. It’s difficult, he has only grown more handsome over the years of not seeing him. In fact, you’re quite nervous sitting here. He can ruin your life if he wants. You doubt he’d do such a thing, knowing him enough from long ago, but he could have changed. You swallow slowly, thinking.

“I was nervous to see you,” you start. “I thought you’d judge me immediately and toss me to the side once you’ve seen me. I didn’t know what you wanted from me.”

“I wouldn’t toss you to the side,” he says simply. “I’ve been speaking to you for over a month, it felt like I knew you already. In the first few messages I did think you’d ask for money and nothing else, but speaking to you was fun. I presumed that we would see each other more after this. Maybe I’d get a chance to show you more than what you’ve seen around here. Help you in life.”

He doesn’t quite say it, knowing there are listening ears out and about. But he infers enough. You two met on the website for a reason. You need money, and he’s willing to provide it.

“I don’t need it.”

“Hm,” he hums. “I know.”

“I’m serious, Yunho.”

“I know.” Despite the tone of the conversation and the circumstances surrounding it, his lip curves, eyes flicking to yours. “I am taking you completely seriously right now.”

Rolling your eyes, you take a small sip of your wine. “Super.”

“Why did you join the site, then? If you weren’t in need of funds, why would you join a site for exactly that?”

You decide not to respond, eyes focused on everywhere but him. It only allows him to continue.

“You told me of your woes. How your employer works you to the bone, how you think about quitting every day that you’re there but you don’t because it’s fiscally impossible. How you wished that your employer was at least kind to you, so the workload wouldn’t feel as bad. How all you’ve wanted was a break in between the chaos to enjoy life.”

“Yunho.”

“All I want to do is provide you a chance to do those things,” he says, thanking the waiter as he places another plate in front of the two of you. He lifts his knife, slowly slicing the steak. “I’d never ask you to quit your job because you find it ridiculous to rely on someone for your funds when you’ve made it this far on your own. But you’ll be able to take less hours, maybe take a vacation or two a month. Would you not enjoy that, a bit of a pause between your headaches?”

It is all you’ve ever wanted.

You hold your tongue, his mouth continuing to roam.

“I came here to see you, but I also wanted to convince you to let me spoil you. All I'm waiting for is a yes.”

Your head is spinning as he speaks. Still, after all of this - he hasn’t changed his mind? Yunho isn’t one to lie to your face, always honest in his feelings. He takes a bite of his steak, waiting for you to respond.

“You don’t find this uncomfortable? You and I?”

He pauses eating for a moment, “It’s crossed my mind.”

It feels like you’re trying to pull out information from him.

“But I think it’s more comfortable now that we know each other.”

“Oh you’ve truly lost it,” you laugh, shaking your head. “Why would I let my ex give me anything? It’s just stupid.”

“You have yet to leave the table, y/n,” he shrugs. “You decided to stick around once you saw me. You could have left right when you turned around but you didn’t.”

“I wanted a free dinner.”

“Keep telling yourself that.” He takes a bite of his steak. “I want you–” the words drip with tension, his heavy gaze set on your lips. You watch as his tongue drags across his own, before shifting to yours – “to be mine to take care of. Is that so hard to imagine?”

...

“You’re shitting me.”

“I am definitely shitting.”

“This is just,” Mingi rubs his face, eyes wide as he looks at you. He paces back and forth, tie undone and hanging on his neck, mouth agape. “What the hell?”

“That's what I said when I saw him. What. The. Hell.” And he's still so handsome. More than ever still the type of man you fall for. Only makes the bitterness in your mouth grow. “I don't think I can go through with this, Min. I'm in over my head.”

“You are not going to deny monthly allowances to see him because of dignity, y/n. You're not.”

“This is weird and you know it.”

He laughs. “It's the best and worst coincidence I've ever seen. I mean, you walked down those stairs like you saw a ghost. I really thought I had to go back up there and beat up some old rich guy. Started to imagine how much the legal fees would be.”

“This isn't funny,” you groan, struggling to hold your own smile back. “Take this seriously!”

He holds up his hands, “Fine. What do you think? He said to message him about what your decision is right? Did he give you a time limit?”

You shake your head.

“Okay, a patient man. Good,” Mingi sits down on the couch. “What are you thinking?’ Giving him a chance? You broke up with him because he didn't pay any attention to you or your relationship. Are you willing to go through something like that again?”

yulips - i was lonely

You close your eyes, “He's around those shareholders everyday. He tells me how they exhaust him, and how he looks forward to my messages everyday. He said that I relieved him from the mess momentarily. And… and he does for me too. I don't remember how it was to not have him only a text away. He's grounded me. He's made me happier than I've been in a while. So completely different from how I felt actually being with him years ago. But it was so long ago, Mingi. He could have changed.”

“He could have,” Mingi agrees. “You just have to decide for yourself if you're willing to have a relationship with him again, platonic or not. Are you ready to have him in your life again?”

“I don't know, Min. It's so much in a night and,” You rub your face. “I just want to sleep.”

You’re thankful he’s not one to take your tone as dismissive, squeezing your shoulder once before disappearing from your sight, door locked behind him. You sink further into the couch, thoughts scattered. Yunho has never been one to lie about his intentions. Despite breaking up with him in the first place, everything else was good. He was kind, smart, and caring. He just lost himself in his work and forgot about you. Now, you have to decide whether or not to let him in again. As the person who would be giving you money to spend on yourself. Your eyes flick to your phone, sighing loudly. You can find someone else. It would just take a long long time for it to get to where you are with Yunho now. Another month of deciding to meet them, an actual stranger this time.

...

You stare at the building in front of you, the name of the hotel embedded into the concrete beneath your feet. Yunho told you to meet him after his work has ended. You opted to stand outside and wait for him, still a bit hesitant on showing your face around his workplace despite his insistence. It is quite cold, the winter breeze chilling as you tuck your hands in your pockets. Just as it begins to snow, an older man with an umbrella runs out the hotel, beelining it to you. You take a step back and he seems to quicken his pace.

“Miss y/n! Mr. Jeong has insisted that you wait inside, his meeting is running much longer than he’d like,” the man says quickly, umbrella held above you. “I am Mr. Kim, his assistant. If you please,” he gestures to the front door. Your phone vibrates, Yunho’s icon from the app appears.

yulips - please.

A bit disgruntled and worried for the man holding the umbrella, you thank him, huddled beneath the covering as you make your way inside. The lobby is grand, crystals decorating the walls and hanging from the ceilings. Several trees decorated with lights line the lobby, a large one in the center of a water fountain. Ignoring the assistant for a brief moment, you walk over to the fountain, gazing inside. The water is abnormally clear, not one coin resting at the bottom of the marble.

You’re way out of your comfort zone.

“Miss?” Mr. Kim catches your attention once more. “If you would like, you can wait in his office.”

“Ah, that isn’t necessary-”

“I insist, Miss y/n.” He takes a quick step to you. “It is not on the orders of Mr. Jeong, but I believe that you did not want to be seen around with him. There are secretaries and others still out and about around his office, so there is no need to worry. And they are sworn to confidentiality, of course.”

You frown slightly. If he were a stranger, you’d definitely say no to the offer. But you humbly agree, allowing him to guide you through the lobby and to the elevator. The doors are massive as he types in the code for the 109th floor. You tug at your trench coat sleeves, unaccustomed to being treated like this. He stands by the opening for the door to let you out, the wet sounds of your shoes echoing around the hall. Employees are out and about, bowing briefly when they see you before running off to do some task. Worry riddles your body as you watch them. Yunho insisted that you take a few days off to catch up with him. An immediate no escaped your lips. It’s the holiday season but you firm rarely laxed in work, paperwork likely piling on your desk even now. But he persisted, asking how much vacation time you haven’t used yet, and threatened to call your firm to complain.

You took it as a bluff at first, until you walked into work the next day and saw the pile of work gone off your desk, the lead partner insisting that you leave for a week after your hard work. You questioned Yunho about it but he denied all accusations with a wink at the end of each sentence. Meeting him here was his idea, but now all you want to do is yell at him for interfering with your workplace. Hoping he didn’t say too much.

Mr. Kim stops just outside an office door, Yunho’s name etched into the gold plaque. You bow to him and he bows even deeper, holding out to you a lanyard and a small bracelet. Gold matching the nameplate behind you. You panic, shaking your head.

“I couldn’t take this-”

“It is your access pass, Miss y/n,” he explains as you hesitantly secure it on your wrist. “Though the guest rooms are of course restricted, you have access to the working areas if you need anyone or anything. It deactivates when you leave, and reactivates when you enter our hotel. Simple but sophisticated technology.”

“Can I give it to you once I leave? I don’t really need this.”

He furrows his brows, “You will be around often, Miss. It would be most advantageous if you kept it with you. Mr. Jeong made sure to design it himself.”

Your eyes widen, “Pardon?”

“It is one of a kind, Miss y/n. No one in this hotel has access to this technology aside from Mr. Jeong himself. Ah,” his watch beeps, notifications flying across. “You can use the bracelet to access his office. But I must be on my way. Anyone on this floor can assist you if need be. Thank you for visiting our hotel.” Bowing again, he runs off, mumbling words as he disappears around the corner.

You stand in the hallway alone now, phone tucked in pocket and wrist heavy with the bracelet. He didn’t tell you how to work it exactly, your hand brushing on the door handle. It unlocks almost instantly, the door slightly ajar. You did not plan for this, but you enter his office anyway, the door closing by itself with a light click.

His office is unremarkable, shelves clean and free of debris, desk lined with endless paperwork. Similar to yours in a way. His family sits in a frame behind the desk on the shelves. You take off your coat, placing it on the hanger beside the door. Your eyes roam for a moment, snickering once you spot the one thing you were looking for. Age has not changed Yunho much, a shelf filled to the brim with Spiderman comics. A small figurine sits in front of them all, the iconic crouched pose of the superhero in view. You don’t touch anything though. Even if you did know him before, you still don’t know this version of Yunho.

“Correct.”

The door opens, Yunho holding his cellphone against his ears as he shuts it behind him. His outfit is similar to the suit he wore to dinner, a dark blue with a red tie hanging from his neck. As always, he looks more than handsome. A coat is folded over his arm, listening intently to the conversation. His brown eyes glance to you, pausing for a brief moment. You wave at him, a smile on your lips. He stumbles over the edge of the carpet, before giving you his back. You snicker, sitting down at the small table in the middle of the room.

“Y-Yes,” he stutters. “The reply brief should be filed tomorrow. I’ll ask my secretary to forward you the docket update. Correct. Have a good holiday. Yes. You too,” he ends the call, eyes moving back to you. “I thought you wanted to wait outside.”

“Did you not tell me to come in?” You raise your brow, growing suspicious of Mr. Kim.

“Yes, I did. I just didn’t expect you to agree. Or if you did, I didn’t expect you in here,” he drops the coat back on the chair, glancing over your outfit. “Are you not cold?”

Your pants are a bit loose, but you wore fleece stockings beneath. You point to the coat hanger, “Nope. And you didn’t have to end your call because I’m here, by the way. I’d keep everything confidential. Attorney client privileged, yada yada.”

He rolls his eyes, amusement filling his gaze. “Are you my lawyer now?”

“I wouldn’t dare,” you laugh, shaking your head. “But speaking of lawyer…” You stand from your spot, moving closer to Yunho. You’ve forgotten how tall he is in comparison to yourself, neck slightly tilted back as you look up at him. “Something really interesting happened at the firm today.”

“Oh?” he avoids your gaze, finger dragging across the wooden surface of his desk. Guilt immediately riddled throughout every mannerism of his. “And what was that?”

“I walked into work today, expecting chaos since dozens of filings are due at the end of the month. And you know what the head partner said to me?” You raise a brow. “He told me that I should take the week off. The busiest time of the year, taking a week off. I laughed at him until I saw how serious he looked. I even tried to convince him to let me stay but he essentially pushed me out the building and told me to leave him alone. Very weird, right?”

“Completely and utterly strange,” he agrees. You glance to the side, the red of his ears a clear giveaway. “I wonder why he would do such a thing?”

“I thought so too, you know,” you hum. “Why would he let an employee who’s barely been there for over a year, have a week off? He was yelling at me just last week and threatened to fire me and now? Being nice to me?”

His embarrassed smile slips, “He did what?”

“Yunho…”

He thinks for a moment, “No wonder he was apologetic on the phone. I only asked for two days.”

“First,” you nudge him slightly. “You do not call my job and tell them to give me days off. Ever. I don’t care how long I work or how tired I am, you do not interfere in anything like that. You’re not my partner Yunho. That’s not how this works.”

“I’ll give you what you need since you’ll be missing days,” he says simply. “But I agree, I won’t call again unless he does something to you.”

“Yunho…”

He raises his hands, feigning innocence.

“I can protect myself. You know that well. And I don’t need…” Remembering your arrangement, you stop yourself from continuing further. You do need his money. The complicated feeling just continues to bubble inside of you. His hands rests on top of yours for a brief moment, squeezing before pulling away.

“Since you have the week off, there's no need to rush.” He grabs his phone, typing quickly. Yours vibrates, glancing at the amount on the screen.

Eyes widening, you look at him. “Are you crazy?”

“Your time in exchange for spending it with me. Fair deal, no?” He grabs his coat, slipping his arms inside. You're uttered speechless, his long arms reaching for yours and helping you put it on. “I can't wait for you to see what I planned.”

“You're a bit busy too now, right?”

His grin widens, “I took the days off. Partially. I'm sure something will come up while I'm gone. But you have me all to yourself for the next couple of days. And you're going to lose your mind when you see what I have.”

…

You stare at the motorcycle. The lights shine around it, glimmering in the garage as Yunho points at it quite enthusiastically, fingers wiggling. A small tree sits on top of the back seat, wrapped securely in lighted wires. It looked like Saint Nicholas himself threw up over the bike, red and green covering almost every surface. Even on his helmet, a Santa hat seemingly glued onto the surface. Yunho has always been an eccentric guy, but this is a bit heartwarming. You didn’t realize how much he enjoyed the holiday.

“It took me two hours to get everything secure enough to drive around with,” he crouches, finger dragging across the tightly woven wire. “My friend helped me get it stuck without ruining the paint. I’ve been stopped a few times, but nothing more than a slap on the wrist,” he looks up at you, wiggling his brows. “What’d you think?”

“I didn’t know you were a motorcycle guy, first off,” you grin, crouching next to him. “But this is cool as hell, Yun. Not cool enough for me to ride with you on it though.”

He pouts for a brief moment, before nodding. “Fine. I wasn’t going to give you your own decorated helmet or anything, by the way. Not on my mind at all.”

“No way…”

He grins widely, lifting up the back storage and digging out a helmet. Only slightly smaller than his, he holds it up in the air for you to see. It’s decorated just like his, Santa hat secured well.

“I figured that my dandelion might want to go for a ride at some point,” he says, staring at it. His fingers brush the tinsel. “Now I’m wondering if my sugar baby wants to instead.”

You scrunch your face at his works, “Never call me sugar baby again, just gagged a bit. And you know I’m afraid of bikes.”

He laughs loudly, echoing around the empty garage. Shrugging, he puts the helmets back in their spots, “I know, just wanted to see if you were still afraid. That accident still has you shaken up, hm?”

“You remember?” You can recall the night the two of you were together, seeing an accident in front of you. The man came out unscathed, the greatest luck in the world. But you told Yunho then and there you’d never sit on or ride one. He agreed at the time. It makes you chuckle a bit that significant things in your life often happened when he was around. “That was so long ago.”

“I remember everything I did with you, y/n. Big brain,” he taps his temple. “And I already had a feeling you’d say no, we’re taking the train instead. My car is a bit of a way around,” the look he gives you is sheepish. “Small walk, not too far.”

“Lead the way, daddy.”

His smile disappears in a moment. “Hm?”

“A joke, lighten up.”

“Definitely,” he murmurs. The word make little sense to you, but he turns. His fingers slip into yours without another word, pulling you along. You should protest, should tell him that you shouldn’t be seen with him like this, but you don’t. Out of selfishness is very much the reason. His hands are warm and soft, swallowing yours easily. He has always had pretty hands, that hasn’t changed. Delicate rings wrapping around his fingers, nails so neat you’re sure he has them done at the salon.

He turns the corner and you can immediately spot his car. It’s the old truck his friend gifted him once he passed his driving exam. You remembered how happy he was to own it, kissing the mirrors. You made fun of him then but secretly enjoyed how much joy it brought him. Only later did you tell him it was a gift from you. Purely because his friend ratted him out to you, and you couldn’t deny it. You were going to keep it all to yourself, knowing how he is with big gifts. The two of you struggled a lot back then, but you wanted to make him happy. And it worked.

The sex was definitely wild that night.

It looks still as old as it did back then, not much changing. He opens the door for you and you thank him, the familiar squeak and slam to force it closed. You laugh, running your fingers along the curve of the armrest. You stop at the end, staring. You etched your initials into it, telling him that it was your spot and no one else’s. Seeing it still there, though very faded, makes your chest tighten. If you partner broke your heart the way he told you you did, you wouldn’t gotten rid of that almost immediately. Him having it there, the small heart barely seen next to your initials…

You’re not sure what to think.

“Our girl is still running good,” Yunho hops into his seat, forcing his door closed. “A bit of a fixer-upper, but she always has been.”

“Maybe a run to the shop would do her wonders,” you note, looking at Yunho. “She sounds the same as she did almost a decade ago.” He shakes his head easily.

“Trust me, it’s happened. She turns on easy and off easy, just the little quirks I kept around. Makes her a bit of a heart turner, huh?” He winks at you, shifting the gear into driver. The spiderman air freshener hands on the rearview mirror, swinging as you two exit the garage.

You look at the road, the silence comforting. His hand shits on the middle armrest, palm up, hand open. In another time you’d easily place your hand in his, the car rarely silent as you two laughed and joked with one another. But it’s just different now. Still, the butterflies never went away. You continue to look at his hand, until he reaches up, placing your fingers into his. You look at him and he glances at you from the corner of his eye, his other hand wrapped around the steering wheel.

“Feels weird seeing you next to me after so long,” he admits. “No one really sits there. I drive alone most of the time.”

“That’s why you haven’t gotten rid of my name?” You joke, pointing to the door. “You could have scrubbed that out a while ago, you know.”

“Never,” his tone changes a bit. “It makes her who she is. No matter the memory. And why would I want to erase the mark you left on me?” he squeezes your hand.

You don’t say anything back.

“You have that face.”

“What face?”

He purses his lips, “The worried face. Concentrated. Your brows are all scrunched together, you’ve been biting your lip, barely focused on the road. And you’re rubbing your thumb hard enough to make a dent in my hand. You can talk to me, y/n. I want you to be comfortable with all of this.”

You stop moving your thumb.

“Isn’t this… a lot?” you ask. “Being with your ex-girlfriend in the car she gifted you? Holding my hand? This is supposed to be an arrangement kind of thing. A you give me money and I hang out with you kind of thing. It’s familiar right now. Too familiar.”

The light turns red, Yunho slowly coming to a stop. He doesn’t say anything, but he doesn’t pull his hand from yours.

“Yun?”

He closes his eyes for a second, a small sigh escaping him. “Hold on.”

He drives through once it turns green, the road a bit quiet this time of day. Neither of you break the silence, yourself nervous more than anything else to interrupt his thoughts. Yunho has his moments of growing silent. Holding in his feelings until he had the chance to settle them himself before speaking. Right now is one of those moments. He pulls into a quiet parking garage, thanking the guard as he enters. The truck slowly makes its way to the roof of the garage. He pulls it back into a parking space, hand leaving yours for just a moment. It’s enough to make your stomach flip at the lost of contact, waiting to see what he says. After shifting the gear to P, he turns, looking at you.

“Do you want to end this?”

“Huh?”

“This, what we’re doing right now? Do you want it to stop? Is it too much for you?”

No, you don’t want to end it. No, you want to still do this with him. And yes, it’s an absolutely terrible idea. “It’s not.”

“Are you sure, y/n? I don’t want you to have any regrets. I don’t want you to think I’m forcing you into this. This is all up to you, your choice.”

“Where do you stand?”

He shakes his head, “Tell me what you want first.”

“I…” I want you.

You aren’t a talker. Another thing that broke your relationship. “I want you.”

“You want me?” His tone is solemn, but you can see the inner corner of his lips quirk. “Like hanging out? Spending time with me?” He leans forward, the truck creaking. His hand covers yours. “Fucking me?”

“Yunho!” You laugh, face heating up at his words. “I am not letting you pay me for that.”

His joyous sound matches yours, shaking his head. “It came out wrong. I was going to ask if you wanted to fuck me.”

Yes.

Yes.

Yes.

“Now?”

His eyes widened, “Now? In our shitty truck?”

“Wouldn’t be the first time.” Or second, or third. Seventh, even. The truck has lasted a long long time and seen many many things.

Yunho moves with swiftness, hand reaching down the side of his chair and throwing the seat back. A loud crack echoes around the car, oh shit falling from his lips as he climbs in the backseat, hand gripping yours to follow. You do, giggling as you struggling to make your way over the seats. The very obvious thing to do was exit the car and put your front seats down to get back there easier, but neither of you are thinking clearly. Yunho pulls you close to him once you’ve gotten yourself back there safely, fingers gripping the bottom of your shirt. He pauses barely an inch away from your lips, soft brown eyes meeting yours. A silent are you okay in his irises. You nod, pressing your lips against his first. It’s soft, hesitant in the beginning. But then his tongue drags across your bottom lip.

"Yunho.." you mumble. His hand leaves your hips, tugging down the sweatpants you wear. His fingers tremble slightly as they touch your bare skin, a heavy breath escaping his lips.

“When I saw you in that restaurant, all cocky,” his fingers barely touched you, slightly grazing your skin. “Wanted you so so bad. Ah, so wet already,” he grins against your lips, finger pressing your clit softly.

“Fuck,” you whisper.

With the skill and knowledge of your body’s reaction, he guides your body flat against the seats, slowly pressing two fingers inside of you. A low moan leaves your mouth, and he grins, fingers curving inside of you. “You sound so pretty for me, my dandelion.” he leans to the side of you, lips near your ear. “Do you like it?" he whispers. You try lifting your hips, but he presses them down, stopping you from moving. ”I haven’t done this in years, baby. You gotta let me get you off myself.“ He makes a 'come here' gesture inside you, your hands reaching out to grip his forearm.

“Don’t stop,” you grip his wrist, noticing his pace slowing down. His lips press against your neck, teeth grazing the skin. “Yun–” His fingers move in and out of your cunt, lips hot against your skin as he bits you. You claw at his shirt, desperate to tug it off.

“How could you already do this to me?” he questions, grabbing your clawing hand and resting it against the front of his pants. Your hand cups the outline of his hard-on, squeezing it lightly. His knees buckle slightly, pressing into you. His pace quickens, you yourself burying your face into your arm, thighs squeezing his hand.

“I want you to come on my cock, pretty,” he whispers, slowly pulling his fingers out. You whine, as he presses a soft kiss to your lips. He tugs his pants down, slightly curve cock finally in sight. Yunho has always been pretty everywhere, and his cock was no exception. His finger slips into his back pocket, unwrapping a condom and slipping it over his length. He strokes it a few times, moving a bit closer to you. The positioning is awkward, your hands on the back of the passenger seat and gripping the backseat headrest. He smiles as he looks down at you, gaze flicking over each curve and corner of you.

“Yun, if you don’t fuck me already–”

He rubs his tip against the outside of your cunt, brows furrowed. Both of you know how large he is, sometimes too much for yourself to handle all at once. His eyes flick back up to you, “Okay?”

“Okay,” you murmur. He stares at you, one hand gripping your thigh and the other on your hip as he presses himself inside. You reach down between your legs, rubbing your clit slowly as he enters. Yunho was never one to push your hand away when you tried to get yourself aroused enough as he entered you, encouraging it even. Something else to concentrate on other than his cock pressed against your walls.

He fills you, a low breath escaping you as his hips finally met yours. He leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. “Still okay?”

“Perfect,” you whisper, and he laughs, a moan leaving him as you squeeze him. “Move, please.”

With one arm holding your leg over his left shoulder and the other steady against your hip, he slowly moved in and out of you, waiting until you were used to the feeling. Once a low moan escaped your lips, he picks up the pace. He moves his hips a certain angle to hit your g spot with every thrust, leaning down to press his lips against yours again. His kiss was deep as he moved his hips again, grinding against you with force.

A hand leaving your hip, he rubs your clit, “Pretty, so pretty for me.” He picks up the pace and fucks you harder, cock throbbing inside of you. You grip his shoulders as he does so, the sounds of sex echoing around the truck. After a while, his thrusts slowly grow inconsistent. “I want to come with you, my dandelion.”

His thrusts are slow and hard, hand covering your cunt, finger rubbing your clit quickly. “Come with me, please.”

“Yes,” you nod slowly and he moves his hand quicker, thumb desperately to make you come. You tighten against his cock, a low groan leaving him as he reaches his own end. You feel his condom being filled with his cum, hips pressed into yours as he lets go. He wraps his arms around your body, pulling you into his chest. The two of you sit there for a moment before he slips out of you, pulling his condom off his cock and tying it up quickly. You reach behind the backseat, a loose hoodie that he always keeps around resting back there.

Still, nothing has changed.

Small kisses to your forehead, you lift your own shirt up and throw the hoodie on, barely giving him a glimpse of yourself. It doesn’t stop him from keeping his eyes glued on you as you do so, a swat from you making him look away. He grabs the other clothing back there, sweats folded neatly. The two of you struggle to situate yourselves, laughs and jabs said to one another.

…

You look down at the fries, avoiding his big, brown eyes. Yunho decided to drive to this restaurant not too far away from the parking garage, the guard giving you two a glance over as you left it. You could only hide your face in embarrassment, hoping he didn’t notice how disheveled the two of you looked. And now here you sit across from one another, eating fast food.

“You never really hold my gaze,” Yunho says, the crunch of fries filling the silence. “Everytime I look at you, you look away.”

“You make me nervous.”

His eyes hold such adoration when they meet yours, open and true. You can barely look at him, it's always been this way. His eyes are what made you fall in love. Never have you seen any prettier.

“Cute,” he chuckles.

“I'm not cute.”

“Beautiful then.”

You cough, grabbing the cup of soda to clear your throat. “You really know how to make a girl feel good.”

“Not any girl. Just you.”

“Shut up,” the embarrassed, shy giggle spills from your lips. If you were Yunho, you're sure your ears would mimic the redness of his. “Is this your version of aftercare?”

“No, it’s yours. Remember when we were in college and we just slept together the first time-”

You cover your face in embarrassment, awaiting his next words. He’s usually quite self-conscious of speaking about taboo subjects in public. You suppose he has grown out of that phase.

“- and you told me after we were done that you wanted me to bring you to that new fast food place on the corner-”

“No…”

“And I didn’t because I was exhausted and you never brought it up again. By the time I wanted to do it we were already broken up. So here we are,” he gestures around, “About six years later, but we made it. As good as you imagined it to be?”

You look around the place. It isn’t as brand new as it was before, but you never really entered. A subconscious thought told you that you weren’t interested, but now you know better. Yunho promised to bring you here and he never did, and you yourself forgot about it. No wonder you hated looking at the sign. Your eyes flick to Yunho, teeth digging into your lip. You thought you would be able to do this with him. Able to be around him and not fall for the man. But he’s Yunho. There’s little not to love.

You just can’t give him what he wants. You can’t do this.

“Why are you looking at me like you’re about to disappoint me?” he asks, brow raised.

“We can’t do this anymore, Yun.”

He stops himself from biting a fry, “What?”

“This,” You gesture between the both of you. “Aftercare. Speaking about how we were back then, trying to fix something. We can’t.”

“I’m not trying to do anything. I want this to work.”

“We are too optimistic, Yun. Pretending like we weren't hurt isn't going to change anything. This relationship is just monetary, exchanged for services. I've talked to you about this already. Having sex with each other, I don’t… it’ll end up with us more hurt in the end.”

“I know. Trust me, I know,” he runs his fingers through his hair. “But the past month, has it meant nothing to you? Do you want to go back to what we were going to do, me sending you money and you having dinner with me, sometimes more than that. Is that all you want out of this? All you want from me?”

If he were anyone else, the answer would be a simple yes. But he is Jeong Yunho, one of the few men you've truly loved and never really got over. One that you wondered what happened to pretty often. He stands here in front of you, sweet dandelions between his fingers, vulnerable. He is now what you wished for him to be years ago. He's here. Present. Never has his eyes left yours since you've been speaking.

“No,” you say softly. “I don’t want this to end.”

“You don’t?”

“I don't know how we can be together,” you admit. “I don't know if I'm ready to be in a real relationship with you. It still hurts.” You had loved him hopelessly. But that was foolish of you then. You protect your heart strongly now.

“I'll wait for you. Anything you need.”

“That's the thing – I don't want you to wait for me. I want you to be with someone who's secure in your relationship. I'm not that person.”

“You have no clue, do you?” He laughs, shaking his head. “y/n. I've had flings, yes, but no other relationships. I didn't want anything else. After you, after us, that was it for me. I fucked, sure, but I never really loved anyone. Not like you. And I fucked it up by not communicating and being around more. I thought everything was fine when it wasn't. And you felt lonely. I never ever wanted you to feel that way, but you did. And it was my fault. I didn't get the chance to fix it, but I have you back now. Unconventionally, but you're in my life. And I'm willing to do anything to make us work. But I want you to know one thing: I won’t stop supporting you if you decide to not want all of the extra things. I still want to help you even if we can’t be together physically.”

This is wrong. Deep down you know it is. And you know that he knows it’s wrong. Both of you sit on opposite sides of the table in a restaurant he promised to take you to when you were in a relationship. It is all wrong. It is so wrong, that making another stupid decision wouldn’t be so bad, right?

“So,” you start, “We will fuck, and you will give me money, and we will spend time together. Nothing more?”

He smiles, “Nothing more.”

You hold out your hand, and he mimics you, shaking on it.

“Don’t fall in love with me,” he teases.

“I won’t,” you laugh, ignoring the blaring warning signs as you do so.

This will be okay.

It will work out.

Right?

Freak Show Talk | 3racha, lmh

𝙭𝙡. 𝙞'𝙫𝙚 𝙗𝙚𝙚𝙣 𝙥𝙡𝙖𝙮𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙨𝙤𝙢𝙚𝙗𝙤𝙙𝙮 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙞𝙩'𝙨 𝙝𝙚𝙡𝙥𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙣𝙤𝙗𝙤𝙙𝙮

! fwb, free use ft. all, fujoshi fem reader, poly, enm, angst, smut, dead dove do not eat. <1k wc. 18+ readers only !

「Contents List」 「Act 1」  「© January 2024 by jl-micasea-fics」

Minho, true to his word, is home before she wakes. He walked back from the studio, which is a standalone miracle considering Jisung’s unparalleled efforts to rob his ability to do so.

He quietly peers around the bedroom door, warm and glad on the sight of her still bundled up asleep. He left her in pretty good spirits, but that’s not to say her confrontation with Chan didn’t do some internal damage. She’s not as tough as she fakes. Nobody is. Not always.

With it approaching four in the afternoon, he considers waking her, but wouldn’t doing so empty handed be a crime?

In the kitchen—well stocked and meticulously clean—he fires up the induction hob and retrieves vegetables from the fridge. He dices carrots, leeks, celery and spring onions into chunks, fills a pot with water, adds vegetable stock, salt and pepper, and lets it come to a gentle boil as he softens the vegetables in a pan. Once all combined and simmering, he hunts for the crusty baguette he knows he bought—

“Thought I could hear culinary chaos.”

Her voices startles him. He turns to see her in one of his big shirts and not much else, rubbing her tired eyes. It reminds him of college. She never did make a single morning lecture. He closes the cupboard and takes her into a gentle embrace; she’s bed-warm and baby soft. Smells like their detergent and everything he associates with uncompromising safety.

“Did I wake you, baby?” he whispers.

She shakes her head. “Was only dozing anyway.”

“You got a good amount of sleep though?”

She nods into his chest. Minho thumbs a rogue strand of hair around her ear.

“Something smells good,” she murmurs, peers around him.

Minho nods and releases her, lifting the pot lid for the steamy, hearty comfort of cooking vegetables to waft out. “Made your favourite.”

She licks her lips, folds her hands over her tummy. “What’s the occasion?”

I fucked Jisung.

“Can’t I spoil you?” Minho tuts.

“Oh, you can. Please, continue.”

“I intend to.” He replaces the pot lid. “This’ll take a little time to thicken, though. You want tea? I was sure we had some French bread around here too—”

She heads to the bread bin—a wooden contraption that sits on the counter—and opens it, retrieving a foot-long crusty baguette wrapped in clear plastic. “This French bread, Chef?”

“Of course it’s in the one place I don’t look.”

“Right? It’s almost like bread is supposed to live in the bread bin.”

He stifles a grin.

“We have butter, too,” she triumphantly adds. “That lives in the fridge.” She points at the appliance. “With the other dairy products and chilled goods. Just in case you weren’t sure—”

She shrieks when Minho lunges for her, begs for mercy when he targets her most sensitive spots, tickling and prodding. Her screaming fills the apartment; not an hour ago he was listening to the grunts of J One, peeling them away from his own. Now he’s here, back in his life, where things don’t float on surreal technicoloured clouds. Something about it feels bitter. Makes him want to cry and laugh.

They knock the chopping board from the counter in the chaos; Minho eases off.

She grabs her sides, panting dramatically. “You’re a demon, Lee Minho.”

Demon. Minho’s throat constricts. He laughs through it.

“Can’t deal, don’t summon, baby.”

“Oh, I can deal,” she laughs, bends to pick the chopping board up. His shirt rides up the back of her thighs, allows a peek of the tempting swell of her ass. Minho’s dick stirs with interest, and it baffles even him. He should be sated for at least the next twenty-four after what he did today. Maybe he has a problem.

“How was the lesson today?” she asks as she stands.

Minho’s gut churns. “Things kind of... derailed. Like; far more than I was prepared for.”

“Chan?”

“Mhm. Mostly.”

She sighs, folds her arms. “I wish I could understand what his problem is.”

“I don’t think he even understands it, babe. Save your energy.”

“Do you think he’s just jealous?”

“Not to credit him but I actually think his issues run a little deeper than petty jealousy. He’d give Freud a run for his money.”

She chews her inner cheek. “Maybe I should call him. Try again.”

“Definitely don’t do that.”

“But this’ll never end—”

“Just let it be, babe. He’ll get over it eventually; whatever ‘it’ even is. In the meantime, just steer clear of him. It’s the simplest solution.”

“So I’m just supposed to hope I don’t run into him every time I see Bin?”

Minho shrugs. “Pretty much.”

“And what happens if he corners me again?”

“Slap the shit out of his other cheek.”

She rolls her eyes. “Helpful.”

“Ask stupid, get stupid.”

There’s a second of silence, and then she says:

“I just think that this started with me, so maybe it should end with me.”

“Oh my God.”

“It makes sense! There has to be something I can do.”

“Why do you even give a toss? He’s been so fucking rude to you, stop trying to save him. He doesn’t want it.”

“I’m not trying to save him, shut up.”

“Yes, you are.”

“I’m not, I just—”

“I’m not interested.”

“Min, just listen—”

“Seriously.” He holds his hands up. “I’m done talking about him.”

“But if I could just—”

“Jisung fucked me today.”

𝙥𝙡𝙚𝙖𝙨𝙚 𝙡𝙞𝙠𝙚, 𝙧𝙚𝙗𝙡𝙤𝙜, 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙡𝙚𝙖𝙫𝙚 𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙧 𝙩𝙝𝙤𝙪𝙜𝙝𝙩𝙨 𝙛𝙤𝙧 𝙢𝙚 𝙩𝙤 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙 ♡ 𝙨𝙪𝙥𝙥𝙤𝙧𝙩 𝙢𝙚 𝙤𝙣 𝙠𝙤-𝙛𝙞 ♡

< 𝙥𝙧𝙚𝙫𝙞𝙤𝙪𝙨 | 𝙣𝙚𝙭𝙩 >

Freak Show Talk | 3racha, lmh

𝙭𝙡𝙞𝙞. 𝙣𝙤𝙬 𝙞'𝙢 𝙨𝙞𝙘𝙠, 𝙩𝙝𝙧𝙤𝙬𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙛𝙞𝙩𝙨

! fwb, free use ft. all, fujoshi fem reader, poly, enm, angst, smut, dead dove do not eat. <1k wc. 18+ readers only !

「Contents List」 「Act 1」  「© February 2024 by jl-micasea-fics」

Minho fucked Jisung.

Correction: Jisung fucked Minho. God.

The more you think about it, the more your heart races, the more your body feels like it’s being stretched thin over red hot coals. It’s a test of fortitude. You know you’re going to fail.

In the solitude of your bedroom, relief can’t come quickly enough. The little black box of regression quakes and stresses with urge to be freed, and who are you to deny it?

The first touch is the worst. The most shameful. An admission of surrender. If sinking into the fantasies didn’t feel so good, maybe you wouldn’t do it. As it stands, you’ve just been handed a whole crate of new material to unpack, because Jisung fucked Minho. The stunning rapper fucked your beautiful best friend in his dance studio, and— God. How will you ever think of anything else again?

You despise Minho for dropping it on you like that. How dare he douse you in lighter fluid and throw a match. Fucker. And you’d been doing a decent job of managing those thoughts that so often made you run cold before they made you run away.

Shoving your fingers into your mouth and running the wet digits over your clit makes the fall a little easier; like sinking into a scalding bath. Eyes closed and you’re somewhere else: an observer in the dance studio. It’s dark save for the muted, ethereal glow of a mirror. In it you see the reflection of your best friend’s face, torn with lust. Burnt. Desperate. His body is iridescent, his spine arched beautifully for the man that stands behind him and worships him with calloused hands that leave fiery sparks on Minho’s skin, so tangible as to smell of ash. The noises they make— fuck, they sound like sin. Too heinous to comprehend. You push two fingers into yourself and muffle your groan into the pillow.

Jisung tells Minho that he feels so good— he calls him hyung. Fuck. Minho pleads for more, his big cock throbbing, hanging, leaking with the force of Jisung’s pounding. You fuck yourself in time with it, and it’s not enough, but you’ve nothing else to be stuffed full of. You want to feel it. The stretch— how Jisung stretches him. You want to smell it. The musk of sex, the desperation. You yank the collar of Minho’s huge shirt over your nose, bury in it, breathe in until your lungs are packed with him. A shiver tears through you, you squeeze around your fingers. Drooling and whimpering you grind on yourself, press your palm to your clit, writhe like a hellish, pathetic creature that would throw itself at the feet of mercy to be forgiven for what it’s doing, because it knows it’ll do it again.

 It’s beautiful. They’re beautiful. You don’t belong. You don’t deserve to see it, not even in your sordid imagination, because people like you are the reason people like them shroud themselves to dull their lustre. They don’t want the attention you give. And so you satisfy the cravings in secret, away from where your best friend might find you and discover the appalling depth of your delusions. Can’t risk that. You’d lose him. Lose everything.

Minho’s crying now. His tears glimmer like the first dew. He begs for it. “Harder, Jisungie. Fuck me harder,” and he’s so stunning you think you could hate him. Jisung hushes him softly, the sweat on his skin highlighting divots and lines of thick, flexing muscle. The fairy Minho always wanted to fuck. He has him now.

“I’ve got you, hyung. You’re mine.”

The mirror wavers as your orgasm blooms, hot and wet. You’re close. So incredibly close—

“Yeah... just like that. Take me so well, hyung—”

You come with a violent shudder, a broken wail into the damp pillow. The seconds that it lasts are blissful, euphoric, as pure as new snow. You float, removed from everything.

But the comedown is inevitable. This time, it’s the worst it’s ever been. When the warmth of content subsides and reality sinks in, an intense disgust crawls over your clammy skin. Your gut churns uncomfortably, tears sting your eyes. Why do you keep doing this? How can you be so selfish? There’s no possible way to justify such blatant objectification, so you won’t even try, but sitting with the disgrace seems too hefty an undertaking. It’s too much. That was too much. Something’s got to give. There must be a way to purge these urges without resorting to physical reprieve that only makes you feel worse when the act is done. Minho would want nothing to do with you if he knew these baser parts of you. None of them would.

Your thighs ache. Fingers are tacky. Minho’s shirt sticks to your sweaty back. Your heart still pounds but now through regret; you don’t want to fucking cry, but the first tears slip regardless. You sit up, frantically swipe them away. You can’t wallow. The little black box needs to be sealed, put away, locked up tight. Thrown to the incinerator.

Your phone is on the bedside table: you reach for it. There’s a message from Minho.

>> Going for a walk. Don’t forget to stir the soup.

Swallowing over the thick guilt, you dial Changbin. It clicks through to voicemail. Frustrated, you message him instead:

<< can you send me jisung’s number?

Twelve minutes later and with an emoji of confusion, Changbin responds with the number, asks if you’re okay. You reassure and thank him, promise to call him later.

With a deep breath, you tap the saved number.

𝙥𝙡𝙚𝙖𝙨𝙚 𝙡𝙞𝙠𝙚, 𝙧𝙚𝙗𝙡𝙤𝙜, 𝙡𝙚𝙖𝙫𝙚 𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙧 𝙩𝙝𝙤𝙪𝙜𝙝𝙩𝙨 𝙛𝙤𝙧 𝙢𝙚 >

𝙝𝙖𝙫𝙚 𝙖 𝙣𝙞𝙘𝙚 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙? 𝙨𝙖𝙮 𝙩𝙝𝙖𝙣𝙠𝙨 𝙬𝙞𝙩𝙝 𝙖 𝙘𝙤𝙛𝙛𝙚𝙚 ♡ >

< 𝙥𝙧𝙚𝙫𝙞𝙤𝙪𝙨 | 𝙣𝙚𝙭𝙩 >

— 『 𝐖𝐎𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐖𝐀𝐋𝐋; 𝐨𝐭8 』 [7] (M)

— 𝚠𝚘𝚗 • 𝚍𝚎𝚛 • 𝚠𝚊𝚕𝚕, adjective. having someone who serves as a pillar in your life, who offers a sturdy place to lean in times of trouble. somebody you find yourself thinking about constantly and are completely infatuated with.

❝humans were such strange creatures. wretched in their mere existence. none of the eight were ever truly interested in them until they found you. they just find. it strange that despite their status and rank, you'd rather spend time with your lover. that isn't much of a problem, though. one they can fix with ease.❞

〘ʏᴀɴᴅᴇʀᴇ, ᴍʏᴛʜ, ꜱᴍᴜᴛ, ꜰᴀᴇʀɪᴇꜱ〙(m.list)

— pairing: ot8 x reader, focus: jongho x reader, wooyoung x reader; mingi x reader; 9.7k

— note: this is a yandere fic. sensitive topics such as manipulation, gaslighting, murder, and other topics involved with the genre. please heed the warnings and read this work of fiction while keeping this in mind.

CHAPTER WARNINGS: MCD, murder references, manipulation, blood, torture references, dark magic, lying, emotional turmoil, injuries, slight descriptions of gore

Chapter 7:

Sweat sinks into the mats below you, your skin sticking to the rubber. Your hands waver, struggle against the wooden pole gripped in your fists. A slight misstep and you doubt you'd be able to stop it from breaking your neck. He stares at you. His body is not like yours – unmoving, relentless in his hold. You should be a bit proud that you made him sweat at all. There's a bit of perspiration coating his forehead, shiny against the backdrop of darkness. His wear is much more firm that what they usually wear – wispy sheer cloth now a darker, workout-like clothing. He wears nothing on his feet still, blonde hair slicked back, only small strands escaping the style. If it weren’t for the situation you’re in at this very moment, you’d loosen your hold and admire him.

“You will die, nymph, if I pressed even a fraction more.”

Your hold trembles, “I have told you all already that I'm not strong compared to faeries–”

He pulls it from your hands entirely, throwing it to the side. It splinters against the stone wall, you turning your gaze away from smaller pieces flying over. He does not flinch at all, reaching down to grab another pole. This one is more flimsy, plastic as he coats it with powder. You slowly lean forward, desperate to catch your breath. Body aching, you rise to reach for the small bottle of water you brought with you. He looks at you.

“Another.”

You pause in the middle of gulping. “We barely had a break.”

“I never told you that we were pausing. This is not for your comfort. This is to test your limits, to see you turn into a kumiho. To help you defend yourself until you're able to control your own strength at will. Your exhaustion now is mental, nothing more.”

You look down at yourself, body coated in sweat. “Doesn’t look mental to me.”

Mingi merely sighs. “Again, nymph.”

“What happens when I figure out how to control my other self, or whatever you want to call it?”

“We use it to our advantage. We defend against the Seelie, against any who may attempt to dethrone us.”

“And if I don't want that?”

He glances at you, amused. There is no answer to your question but it is an easy guess. They will end your life. Without as much as a second thought.

Not much time has passed since Seonghwa told you what he believed you were. You still vehemently disagree with his assumption, but the others don't. From his guess led you to rarely being left alone with one of them now, except for Mingi, oddly - though you do not doubt one of the others is somewhere around, peeking through a window or hiding in the thickened forest.

Mingi lifts his hand, words mumbled beneath his breath as he stares at the broken stick. It mends itself slowly, morphing into smaller, perfect chips of wood. He flicks his hand, tossing it into the grass. He voted for you to die. Neither of you have brought it up since your life was spared, but you cannot help but wonder. Why did he want you to die? Is it because of Seonghwa, whatever he may have said to him? Did he see your presence as so much of a threat he needed you gone? His personality hasn't changed at all – indifferent, slips of his true personality shown whenever he let his mask fall. From what you can gather from those moments and how he speaks when he doesn't see you around, he's kind. Funny, a bit loud. Endlessly teased by the others. Blunt and honest. A bit more closed off than what you’ve seen before, but it would make sense since he did say he wanted you dead.

You believe you two would be great friends if it weren't for the circumstances surrounding your stay here.

“We leave tonight,” he tosses you the metal stick, and you barely catch it, balancing it between two fingers. “Seonghwa and Jongho will be around. Yeosang and San are hunting but will be back soon, just before we leave. Our house is secure, but it will be more vulnerable while we aren't here. You won't become an expert in Seelie weaknesses in an hour, but this next brief lesson will be enough for you to survive for a few minutes, at least. Until one of us comes to help.”

“How reassuring,” you mumble.

A small smile peeks out. “A brief refresher might be needed. Seelie and Unseelie are similar in many ways, and different in so much more. To put it simply – they thrive on light, on goodness, luck, wealth, care, etcetera. We feed on terror, fear, life, chaos. We may seem evil, of which we are to a certain extent, but our kind are both faeries. Our weaknesses are similar. Seelie in particular, though, has a greater one. How joyous we as Unseelie are when we find someone in despair is quite comparable to how aroused they are when they see pure happiness. It is their greatest weakness.”

“Hate to break it to you Mingi, but there’s little for me to be happy about right now.”

He snorts, the smile breaking out into a wider grin. “That I know. This is just for information purposes. They can tell it is fake just as we can tell when you are truly afraid. It is part of our nature,” he points to your palms. “The metal that you hold in your hands now is blessed by gnomes. It holds in the wielder’s emotions, whether it be negative or positive, and exemplifies it. Right now from where I stand, I can feel the anxious energy emitting from you. With that in your hand, I can feel it tenfold.”

“And this could help…?” Your doubt is evident in the dragging of your words, peering at Mingi. He nods simply.

“When you are happy, hold that. Magic casted on it helps store it inside. It will lure Seelie to you.”

“And I would want that for?”

He takes it from you, pointing it farther away from the two of you. A spark lights, flying through the air. The crack of the tree crumbling beneath the impact echoes around the night, your own eyes widening at the sight. What once was a lively tree is now a crumbled mess of wood and sticks, flames flickering in the night. He whispers against his hair and blows, the fire dissipating.

“For that.” His eyebrow lifts, passing it back to you. “Use it wisely.”

–

“Yeosang can listen to it. Her thoughts, that is.”

“A bit peculiar,” Seonghwa mumbles, flipping through his book. “Perhaps it is because his gifts have always leaned towards it. He was the first of us to excel at tormenting human minds, it makes sense that he is the only one who can somewhat hear what she thinks.”

“But she is neither a human nor a faerie. It makes less sense that he can do it at all.”

“Well, what do you want me to say?”

“That you will figure out why, at least.”

“There is no reason to anymore.”

Jongho observes him silently, his own thoughts scattered. “You were interested in here before – what changed?”

“Her being a threat to us changed, Jongho. Why would I want to dig deeper into it when I have already told you all that it wasn't a good idea to have her around? One day it will happen. One day she will hurt one of us. Or cause one of us to be hurt. There will be no room for me to say I told you so because we’d be long past that.”

“Then it should be imperative that we start digging deeper into what she can and cannot do.”

Seonghwa turns over his book and flattens it against the wooden desk, peering over his glasses. “And then what? She is already resistant to many of our strengths aside from physical. If I tested her further, it's possible that I may awaken something that's been long buried. I do believe that she doesn't believe she's a kumiho. It's best for us to not trigger her true nature at all. Kumihos are legends – having one rise on Earth now can lead to its destruction.”

“Is it such a good idea to ignore it, though? We would need to know eventually. It’s better for it to happen now rather than later.”

Seonghwa narrows his eyes as he stares at his mate. “Has Mingi started his training again? Why that tree is destroyed in the front yard? Is this why we're having this conversation so I won't be furious once I find out?”

Jongho’s lips remain shut, quickly getting to his feet when Seonghwa stands. “Wait, you have to understand why we're doing it. It is to protect us from Seelie, from other faeries. Having someone like her on our side will be an advantage.”

“Then so be it. Do what you'd like. Don't expect me to endorse it, because I won't,” he avoids Jongho’s touch, shaking his head slightly. “I care for you all dearly, and I would listen to any of your opinions on something this serious without as much as a blink. This situation, this woman, how most of you have thrown my words to the side–” He takes a breath. “There's no use in dwelling on it further. Tell Mingi to meet them at the edge of the Rowan trees. They will be waiting.”

Seonghwa walks to his coat rack, raising his finger slightly to slide the clothing over his body. He does not bother looking back at Jongho, knowing well what expression he'd be showing him now. In a different situation, Seonghwa would follow their words, their instincts. Even if he were wrong, completely, having his words disregarded because of lust –

He cannot fathom how he will continue going on like this.

–

Mingi lifts the hood over his head, face disappearing beneath the shadow it forms. Yunho, Hongjoong, and Wooyoung wait at the edge of the trees, as Jongho said. Yunho places a hand on Mingi’s shoulder as he moves just behind Hongjoong. None say a word. Their leader closes his eyes, dead leaves trembling beneath their feet. Though there are no markings, they stand in an old cemetery, long decayed bodies dust beneath the ground in wooden caskets. They watch as the forest speaks to them, warm air gusting, pulling the hoodie off of Mingi’s head. Hongjoong’s reaches back, Wooyoung taking his hand, Yunho taking his, and Mingi taking Yunho’s last. Within a blink they’re gone from the rowan trees. Mingi stumbles slightly as his feet land on unholy soil, Wooyoung whistling as he pulls his own hood off his hair.

“Hells, I’d never get used to that,” he grins. “Is everyone here yet?”

“A few more stragglers, then we’d be able to speak to everyone,” Hongjoong says, their steps identical as they follow him up the stone path. It is silly to consider the building in front of them Unseelie headquarters, but it is where the leaders meet for pertinent discussions. Rarely do any of them ever enter the palace, its essence being cared for by chaos itself. The hall remains empty as Hongjoong swings open the door with a nudge.

“Bothersome, the blood still seeps into the carpet from years ago,” Yunho murmurs, glancing down at the stains. It looks fresh, as if they’ve just slain a creature moments ago. This is what they consider the in-between - this place never really changes. That blood could be from someone who hasn’t existed in this realm for over a hundred years ago and it’d still be fresh. Time does not truly exist where they are, though it passes in the realms beyond.

Mingi barely gives it a glance himself, tucking himself further into the cloak he wears. Wooyoung jumps up slightly, wrapping his arm around the taller Unseelie.

“You’re the one that did it Mingi, no need to feel ashamed!” He touches his back, rubbing it lightly. “Remember how you struck down those Seelie? We haven’t even seen those wings in so long.”

Mingi's back aches, the ribbing of his wings straining against his sealed skin. He hasn't let them breathe for months. They yearn to escape his body, to lift in flight. But for some reason unknown to himself, he cannot, no matter how hard he tries.

“Enough, Wooyoung. We have things to do,” Yunho pulls him away from Mingi. Though neither meet each other’s eyes, Yunho can see how Mingi’s tense body relaxes just a bit, the two Unseelie disappearing down the hall. Leaving Hongjoong and Mingi alone.

The last time this happened was just before Hongjoong asked him to turn into your human partner to break things off permanently with you. His body aches at the thought of molding himself into something else again. But he would do it if Hongjoong asked. Without thinking twice about it.

“They will look to us for answers, Mingi,” Hongjoong says, walking slowly as he follows. “Most would want to start a war.”

“Would you allow it?”

Hongjoong thinks for a moment, “No. Not yet. What you’re doing with the girl, training her. It is smart. It may caution her to pause if she turns on us in the future. Perhaps even our livers will remain intact.” Hongjoong pats his stomach, a dry laugh escaping his lips. “At least for the moment anyway.”

“Is this the path we are going to take? Allowing her to continue training, keeping an eye until the very last moment?”

Hongjoong shrugs, “Do you have anything else to suggest? It was not unanimous, but we voted on keeping her around and alive. At least for now. It’s better to strengthen rather than not. Having a Seelie take her away while we’re in the middle of bonding with her would be unfortunate. But that is not all you’re asking, right?”

Mingi cannot come up with another response, mouth opening and closing. Hongjoong stops walking, turning on his heel to look at Mingi. "It is unbecoming of you to hide your own feelings, Mingi. We all witnessed how your body tormented itself when you turned into her dead partner. It rejected it so violently, because you desire her yourself."

Mingi's frown deepens. "Don't start with this."

"You like her Mingi. I never thought I'd see the day." The teasing look spreads across his face, smirk deep enough to show the small curvature of his dimples just above his lips. Mingi tries to ignore the look as much as he can, but Hongjoong only sits in anticipated silence. Very likely waiting for the words of confirmation.

"Why does it matter if that were true?"

Though it is not a certain confirmation, it is enough for Hongjoong. He hums, "We make our decisions as a spark, Mingi. I won't leave any of you behind as I observe this y/n. I want to know how each of you feel before I offer a choice to all of you."

“We said she will stay alive.”

“Momentarily, yes. But that’s not the choice I was speaking to.”

"Then what choice will that be?"

Hongjoong’s canine peeks out, sinking into his bottom lip. "What would be the fun in telling you that?"

  –

Jongho bends the spine in half, wincing slightly as he hears the book’s glue crack. San would be furious seeing him treating the book this way, but alas, he could care so very little. Most of the editions he has on his shelves are what San has gifted him, likely due to how Jongho treated the writing. Books are meant to be read though, he would hate to see unworn copies lining the shelves. His ear twitches, the familiar steps of yours passing his room and down to your own. He never had his door closed until you arrived, many of his spark popping in every now and again to say their greetings. Frankly, he would have kept it open even with your presence if it weren’t for the look Seonghwa threw at him when you first arrived. Now, only the main areas are left open, doors to each of their chambers closed. He knows why Seonghwa worries, why he listens to every conversation someone has with you, why he has carved spells everywhere in the home. The reasoning does not go past him; he is keeping a close-eye on you in the event that you snap. Wooyoung is the only one that has removed the spell on his room though, after his … well, his late night caress with you.

“Your mind always wonders with those tales,” San enters his room, shutting the door behind him. “Mindless enough that you didn’t pay mind to my knockings.”

“I thought you were out hunting with Yeosang?”

“It was brief, there were Seelies hanging around,” San sighs, throwing himself into Jongho’s bed. He glances over, a frown slowly forming. “Yeosang thought it best that we only bring in one miserable human rather than two. So whoever is in dire need of feeding, it’s in the basement. I placed a spell on it to subdue its hysterics temporarily.”

“Basement…” Jongho’s nose wrinkles. “Why do we hide it? She knows we kill humans. In fact, she should encourage it since she is a kumiho.”

“A reformed kumiho, from what we understand. No longer feeding on the livers of men, unfortunately. He thought it best we keep it away so she doesn’t stumble across it.”

“What about you?” Jongho asks softly. His frown slips away as he takes in those three words. “What will you feed on?”

“What I have already done so far, it is enough for now.” “San, that Seelie you ran into while in town with her, he was right. Pushing away your true nature will only make it harder for you to control yourself. You should take his – Hongjoong’s – words into consideration.”

“I am not leaving this spark. I chose this, I chose all of you. Hongjoong knows that, Yeonjun knows that. You know that.” His words carry a sense of finality, leaning up. “I've fought for this, for us to be together as we are now. I gave up everything. And I’ve said that it isn’t up for discussion. I will not leave unless you all kick me out. Is that what you want, for me to be removed?”

Jongho closes his book, “That is not at all what I’m saying, San.”

“For a spark of Unseelie, all of you worry too much about things that do not affect you.” San ignores the look Jongho gives him, waving him off. “I know, no need to give me a talk about how much you all care. I’ve heard it dozens of times.”

“And it seems like it hasn’t sunk in yet despite that.”

“Jongho please,” San closes his eyes, taking a deep breath before speaking. “I love you all, more than you could ever believe. I will protect you with my life if need be. This is a choice that I have made. I will not leave in the face of distant peril. I will not leave because I haven’t grown accustomed to feeding like you. I am here. I’d rather not discuss this again, at least with you. You know where I stand, no?” Jongho’s hand reaches for San’s, and he takes it promptly, lifting it to press his lips on the back. “Promise that you will not discuss this with me again.”

Jongho looks at him, the darkened skin beneath his lids, the redness of his eyes. His inner struggle has not gone unnoticed by any of them - most worried for his well-being. Going against your own nature, it is almost impossible to do. He is only concerned that it may go too far before any of them can help.

“I cannot promise that, you know that,” Jongho says softly. “It may need to be dealt with in the near future.”

“Then promise to not bring it up unless absolutely needed.”

“I promise.”

He leans forward, lips moving from his hand and brushing lightly against Jongho’s lips before moving away. “Alright.”

—

Jongho can see a bit of the appeal of you. Your otherworldly form, though hidden, could be one reason. But despite that, he can see why Wooyoung so desperately needs your presence. It almost makes sense as to why they all somehow enjoyed you around, even if it were a miniscule amount. That is what kumihos do. It worried them all after it was revealed. Most needed firm assurance from Seonghwa that you aren’t far gone enough for them to worry. Despite how much Seonghwa wanted to hide it, he agreed. At least, for now.

Jongho sits on the single sofa chair, eyes flicking over to you.

Your body is mostly covered with the blanket that rests on the couch, a small book beneath the coloring one that you have. It hasn’t been touched since they’ve come here - none desired to rest in the main living space. After you’ve settled yourself in the room, the space has transformed entirely. Spellbooks thrown on the table in the middle, several potions lining the walls, baskets of supplies scattered about. Oftentimes they all spent their free time in the area, chatting about unimportant things even while you weren’t around. It feels more lived in the more he looks at it. He wonders if the rest noticed the change as well.

“You guys love to stare,” you note. He looks at your face, your gaze amused as your eyes flick back down to the page, marker shading the characters. The blanket is wrapped around your head, face barely peeking from the shade it brings. “Is that what you do to lure people to their demise? Watch them until they notice?”

“Most are too occupied with other matters to pay concern to how we hunt.”

“Hmm.” You continue. “Are you on duty now to watch me, then? Seonghwa put you up to this?”

His nose wrinkles. “He hasn’t told me to do anything.”

“That you’re sure of? Because this is the first time I’ve been alone in a room aside from my own, and you haven’t said anything except to stare.”

“I am just curious about you.”

You raise a brow, gliding your marker across the pages. “I’m an open book. You can ask.”

You’ve spent time with each other, small chats turning into a friendship, even if it’s only the beginning of one. He hasn’t pried into your personal life, only commenting on surface level things that wouldn’t get you agitated. Asking what he is curious about may sway what you two have built. It makes him nervous, which is humorous in itself.

“Is it wrong to say that I expected you to turn into a kumiho and run once Seonghwa told us?”

You snicker softly, closing your marker and grabbing another. “It’s not wrong to say, but it’s a little funny. I don’t believe in myself being this nine-tailed fox you talk about. It would be cool if I were, though. I’d feel less defenseless.”

He nods slowly, “You still don’t believe Seonghwa?”

“How could I? His little speech was based on theories, and everytime I try to talk to him about it he leaves the room. I get not wanting to be around me but it’s a bit much, don’t you think? I did one thing that happened months ago and nothing has happened since. He didn’t even take into account the first time I was almost killed by a Seelie in the bookstore. Nothing happened then.”

Ah, he himself forgot about that. “That is what you believe? That you’re not a kumiho?”

You nod, holding a marker between your lips as you dig for another. “I do.”

“Then so do I,” he agrees simply.

“You do?”

“I do.”

“Even if everyone else doesn’t?”

“Since when did our thoughts have to align? I am my own being, y/n, even if you don’t think it true. So if you believe that you’re fully human, then I believe it as well. It shouldn’t be a hard concept to comprehend.”

You pause. None of them so easily believed anything you’ve said to them, even Wooyoung. You can’t quite decipher what Jongho’s end-goal would be - defying everyone else’s beliefs would only cause him trouble in the end. This would hurt him, listening to your words. Why?

You look back down at your coloring sheet. It’s a simple hobby - you rarely indulge due to your busy life. Now that all you do is wake and train then sleep, it fills in the hours of nothing. What you stare down at now, the deepened orange of a sunset, the wide stretched m birds along the horizon. It used to help distract you, calm yourself. But all you can feel now is fear. Endless fear of what is to come.

“I’m a slightly wrinkled book, but you can ask me anything you’d like.”

You let your feelings subside briefly, eyes flicking up to him. “Everytime I ask Wooyoung about other types of fae he doesn’t even let me ask.”

Jongho laughs, “Because he’s stubborn. But I wouldn’t mind. What do you want to know?”

“Which ones are real.”

“Alright.”

Still suspicious, you continue. “Gnomes.”

“Real.”

“Elves.”

“Real.”

“Selkie?”

“Not the term we use, but yes. Real.”

“Sirens.”

“Real.”

Your eyes widened, “So pirates were telling the truth?”

He nods simply, “Yes. But they’re numbers have dwindled. There is likely less than fifty left in this world.”

“If Sirens are real, then-”

“Mermaids are real too, yes,” A cheeky grin crosses his lips as you stare at him in shock. “A small colony is not too far away from us. I can bring you one day if you’d like.”

“This is where you two have gone,” San enters the room, lip twitching into a frown slightly as he observes you. You stop coloring, sliding the markers back into the small box and standing. “Wait, no need to leave because I’ve entered-”

“Not leaving because of you,” the lie falls from your lips. “Leaving because I have to practice with the majik pole Mingi gave me.”

“Majik… pole…?” He watches as you leave the room, eyes meeting Jongho’s. “Is this a human word that I don’t know? I should know, I watch plenty of their cinema.”

Jongho merely snorts, shaking his head.

–

It is not often they attend these meetings. It is usually done with all eight of them in attendance - showing power in numbers is what temperaments Unseelie. Sparks vary in size but rarely do they contain over five Unseelie. Hongjoong’s spark, consisting of eight, is a large factor in his position rarely being threatened. His existence as their leader has not shifted in hundreds of years due to it. So standing now, with only three Unseelie behind him, well, it is not ideal. Mingi can see it well - how they look upon them, the sneers that are hidden usually, displayed on their faces. Sparks of two to five stand beneath them, thoughts elsewhere as Hongjoong speaks. Mingi’s gaze shifts to one group in particular. Decades prior their leader attempted a coup, one that ended in her death. None have been tried since, but it has been long. Soon, the Unseelie will grow tired of Hongjoong’s rule. Soon, their rule may end.

“Seelie have always stuck themselves in places they didn’t belong,” One retorts in the crowd. “It was deserved for some to die. But they have killed several of us, while we have done barely half of ten. We should strike instead of hesitating, it makes us look weak.”

Hongjoong laughs at the suggestion, “Then you venture forth yourself, Hanbin. Tell me how it works out.”

“Are you joking with me?”

“How could I not? Their numbers surpass ours by almost double, they can function at night and during the day. We ourselves cannot use majik as well in the daylight. We are at a disadvantage and have always been. It would be nonsensical to venture down the path of death. But if you'd like to, I won't stop you. Your death will be in your own hands.”

It is a jab, even if it is small. Hanbin’s lips pursed, gaze flicking away. Mingi, Wooyoung, and Yunho do not offer any additional points, knowing only to speak when spoken to. Especially at events like these.

“What do we do then?” Another asks from the crowd.

“We wait.”

“For how long?”

Hongjoong's gaze moves to the one who questioned him, eyes narrowing. “Until it is time.”

–

“They are growing uneasy,” Yunho notes, head covering slipping from his hair. He rests in the chair adjacent to Hongjoong’s rubbing his temple. “Your words will only satiate them momentarily. They will need to know further explanation before trusting in you.”

“They’ve trusted in me for hundreds of years, doubting me now will only bring their peril.”

“We haven’t interacted with the Seelie in hundreds of years too, so there was no need for an uprising. Now that we’re moving closer to a war, it would make sense that they become wary,” Yunho notes, gesturing for Mingi to sit near him. “And we do not have many faerie allies. It makes sense that they worry.”

Mingi ignores the movement, eyes glued to Hongjoong’s. “We should have killed her or given her up to Seelie.”

Hongjoong’s laugh is boisterous, “Give her up? She is a weapon, Mingi. It would be foolish to pass her over. A rare commodity like her cannot just be given away at the inkling of possible chaos. Is that not what we live for?” He moves closer to him, reaching up to pull a loose strand away from his cheek. “Have you grown bored at your old age?”

Mingi steps away slightly, in tune to how Hongjoong’s smile slips. There has been a barrier between them since his last stint, his recovery from the transformation rough. The air thickens a bit in the brief period of silence, Mingi’s eyes anywhere but where he stands.

“I don’t agree with you wanting her dead, but if she is truly what she says she is, would she eventually grow to hate us? It is in her innately,” Wooyoung murmurs, fingers twisting a loose string between them. “She just began to care for me.”

“It’s not impossible, but I’ll try my best not to let it happen,” Hongjoong grabs his overcoat, head flicking to the door. He does not acknowledge the lull in conversation, and neither does Mingi, shifting closer to Yunho. “I have another meeting to attend, but you all can head back. It’s best not to keep our land in such low numbers for so long.”

“I will go with you,” Yunho says, fingertips light against Mingi’s arm as he stands. The touch is brief, Mingi’s breath hitching. “Mingi and Wooyoung can go back.”

“Yun…” Wooyoung whines, stopping once he sees how unsettled Mingi looks. He stands, arm wrapping around his center. “Don’t take too long.”

“I won’t.”

–

You can barely catch your breath, almost dry heaving into the dirt beneath you. Getting away from them to train yourself as hard as you have wasn’t the greatest idea. But you could hardly stand being in a room with more than one of them right now. You wish you could be back in your apartment, or maybe in your bookstore. The smell of old books was much more comforting than being here. Agreeing to staying was not an easy choice to make.

You just didn’t want to die.

You slowly stand, wiping away the small pebbles that indent your knees and palms, flicking them back to the ground. The evening sun burns on your back as you grip the water bottle.

“Fuck this place,” you murmur to yourself. You lean to grab your bag, stopping in place. Not too far off, deep within the darkened forest, something stands there. It does not say a word, but you can see how the silhouette is hidden behind the thick trunks. It does not move. You can feel your heartbeat pick up its pace, your fingers wrapping around your bag tightly as you stare at it. Something tells you not to turn around, not to give it your back.

“y/n?”

Jongho moves into your line of sight. Your gaze flicks over to him only for a second, but when you look back, the figure is gone. His brows furrow at your cold expression, following your gaze. “What’s going on?”

“There was someone there watching me, Jongho,” you move closer to him, fear riddling your body. “I swear there was.”

He nods slowly, recognition crossing his features. “No need to worry, just pixies.”

“Pixies?” Your voice is incredulous, glancing back at the spot. “I thought no one else could enter this land?”

“Pixies aren’t allowed to enter our territory, yes. But they live in the rowan trees. That lining that you see around us, it’s the barrier between us and them. They haven’t been really active when you’re around, so I’m a bit shocked that they showed themselves to you anyway,” he admits, rubbing the back of his neck. “Seonghwa isn’t going to be happy they're still hanging around.”

“Are they…?”

“Will they hurt you?” Jongho asks, and you nod. “No. They’re curious faeries, a bit mischievous, but they only care for the trees. Maybe they will make you trip over a branch or fall into a fit of laughter, but that’s all. They’re just curious about you - not many see kumihos in person.”

“How do they know about that?”

“They listen to the trees speak, y/n. For us, our home is a giant one.” He winces at something you cannot hear, turning toward the house. Though your senses aren’t as heightened as Jongho’s, you can hear doors opening and shutting loudly, a familiar voice erupting throughout. “An Unseelie is running through the halls to look for you. You should go and meet up with him, less of a chance he’d break something.”

“Maybe later,” you say. Jongho looks a bit surprised, brow raised. “Believe it or not, sometimes I do want to spend time with people other than him.”

“Me?” His cheek lifts, eyes flicking between yours. “Wooyoung has monopolized you. I just thought you enjoyed it.”

“I do enjoy him, but I also enjoy hanging out with you.”

Jongho does not respond. His cheeks lift at your words, glancing at the house before resting on you. Though no words are exchanged, he turns and walks toward the woods, your steps following him close. There is little hesitation as he holds out his hand, your fingers easily sliding into his palm. Just as you hear the backdoor of the house creak, Jongho and you disappear into the brush.

–

“Has she not had enough of him?” His voice is sour, disgruntled brows seemingly permanently furrowed. Seonghwa merely rolls his eyes, shifting another box into the corner with the flick of a finger. It has barely been an hour since you left with Jongho, and Wooyoung has decidedly glued himself to Seonghwa’s quarters. He’s not as used to Wooyoung seeking his advice, the Unseelie often only letting Hongjoong’s whisper sweet words to him. More recently, though, despite his stance on your presence in their home, Wooyoung lets himself into his personal areas more often than not, pestering him about you. “She’s spent most of her time with him idly by, she should miss me more.”

“Overcrowding her isn’t going to help her seek you, Wooyoung,” Seonghwa mumbles, glancing over his work. “Has Hongjoong arrived yet?”

“But she likes me more,” he insists, glaring at his mate.

“Stop acting like an unruly pixie and give her space. Where is Hongjoong?”

“It isn’t fair, that’s all I’m saying.”

“Wooyoung, I’ve asked the question twice already.”

Wooyoung sighs, rubbing his head. “He stayed behind a while longer. Yunho stayed with him just in case.”

“And Mingi?”

“He came back with me then left, saying something about seeking refuge outside this home. You know how he is, with his pretty words.”

Seonghwa narrows his eyes, thinking. “Did any of them say when they’ll be coming back?”

“Likely not until tomorrow. But for Mingi, who knows. Maybe Yunho or San can find him meandering the unholy lands.”

That is the one he is worried for. Seonghwa steps to a window, gaze resting upon the thickened forest. Jongho knows better than to keep you in the rowan trees after dark, so Seonghwa isn’t too worried. Nothing is out there now that could stir something within you. Wooyoung steps near him, hand wrapping around his limp fingers. He squeezes it once, lips pressing against his jaw before stepping away and out.

Seonghwa rubs his temple. Whatever Hongjoong may or may not be up to, he knows well enough that it’s not good. He hates the unnecessarily lavish mansion, and hates appeasing Unseelie to stop a revolt. Politics is something none of them enjoy. So his stay after everything has been settled is just odd in itself.

He does not like this feeling.

Not at all.

–

Jongho holds a finger to his lips, looking back at you. You nod, shifting closer to his body as you look ahead. The lake is vast. These woods surprise you with the amount of differentiation of ecosystems hidden. Likely due to it being filled with faeries and other magic. You do recall the townsfolk speaking of avoiding venturing deeper into the forest. The festival that you attended months ago was another way of preventing anything nefarious from sneaking out from the leaves. You didn’t believe it at the time, but now it makes sense. Though it did not stop Seonghwa from seeking you out.

Jongho lightly touches your shoulder, guiding you to sink further behind the large bush. You do not see it at first.

The water shimmers, current swirling. The lake seems to bubble, large fins rising from its depths. You hold a hand over your mouth as you gaze ahead, heads appearing one by one. They’re too far for you to see clearly, but Jongho warned you that this was a safe enough distance. He could protect you if it ever came to it, but he preferred to not start another quarrel that wasn’t needed.

The mermaids aren’t what you imagined. Heads covered in scales, luminescent. Their laughter flows through the air and into your ears. Like bells chiming as wind flows through them. They’re alluring - beauty behind what your mind could conjure up by itself. Jongho’s hand reaches for yours, fingers entwining. His whisper is barely heard, but you can see the water moving. The mermaids turn to where Jongho and you are, but they do not move. The current grows wild, thrashing against the shoreline. He pulls you away from it all, your head turning back for a last glance.

Though they’re too far away for you to see details of their faces, their stare unsettles you.

As if they are warning you.

–

“I’m sorry I couldn’t bring you closer,” Jongho explains, sending you a small smile. “Seonghwa would kill me if I let something happen. We already have enough happening to last a lifetime.”

“I’m thankful you brought me here, anyway,” you say, letting his hold help you over a deep hole. “What spell did you cast, just before we left?”

“High tides,” he grins. “They began sensing someone was watching. Unlike the mermaids from the tales, they can breathe on land. But they much prefer the coolness of water. I stopped them from getting closer to us as we left,” he glances up at the sky. “It’s getting late.”

“Is San going to yell at us?” you joke, and he laughs lightly.

"Believe it or not, he’s quite adventurous in comparison to Seonghwa. He loves so tenderly, there has never been one kinder," Jongho says softly. "He praises me like I'm the most, but we all know it is him. Not one of us matches his devotion."

You’re not too sure how to respond to that, San’s resolute anger at your presence only waning slightly. You’re sure he’d prefer if you weren’t here at all, even though he voted to save your life. But Jongho believes you when you say you’re not a kumiho, so you’ll believe him when he speaks of San.

"You're my favorite human friend," Jongho whispers, gazing at the branches that hang over you. "I'm sorry that I want you to be more than that."

Now this is surprising. You stop walking, hand leaving him. He looks at you, cheeks flushed. “Ah, I didn’t mean to say that out loud.”

"More?" Is all you can muster to say.

His soft gaze resting on yours. It's hard to keep your eyes steady on his, the feeling leaking from the heavy look more than what you've ever experienced before. With Wooyoung, with Soobin. They looked at you lovingly, sure, but Jongho? Your stomach twists the more you hold his gaze.

"I'm sorry that I am so desperate to be your lover."

The breeze whispers through the leaves, hairs resting on his forehead lifting back from his skin. A scar from the banquet hall fight months prior shines at you. A reminder of what he's done, what he did, and what he will continue to do, as long as the others agree to it. It's overwhelming, these strange feelings appearing with them all. All unique and different, but still quite new.

"Why are you trying to go where I can't follow,?" He asks softly after the brief quiet.

"I'm right here."

His lips curl into a soft smile, "You were in that mind of yours. I can't go there."

You swallow. "I'm scared, Jongho."

"I know," his eyes soften, lids heavier. "It's a lot to say when we haven't known each other for that long. And it frightens me even more that I feel this way. You don’t need to do anything about my feelings. I’ll be fine as I am now."

His eyes flick to the sky, “But we should probably head back. Seonghwa must be furious.” He holds out his hand, and you take it, letting him pull you forward through the path you took.

–

Furious is an understatement.

Seonghwa paces back and forth on the edge of the woods, hands crossed against his chest, angered eyes unmoving as you two enter the clearing. Jongho lets go of your hand, opening his mouth to speak. Seonghwa does not allow it though - frown deepening as he waits for you two to come closer.

“I lost track of time.”

“I can see that.”

“I’m sorry,” he mumbles. You expect seething words from Seonghwa, but he only sighs, waving him off.

“Go inside. I need to speak with her by myself.”

Jongho gives you a pitiful look before disappearing from sight, leaving the two of you alone. As alone as you can be, with the watching eyes of everyone in the home behind you. He rubs his forehead, long, exasperated breaths continuing to leave his lips. His expression is pained as he meets your eyes, lips downturned.

“You continue to cause more trouble than you are worth.”

“What a nice thing to say,” your tone drips with sarcasm, crossed arms resting against your chest. His gaze roams over you. It is nothing sensual, mute annoyance at best. “Good thing I don’t plan on being here so long.”

“Oh?” Seonghwa’s brow raises. “What will you do without us?”

“Once I have trained enough, I’m leaving. I’ll take care of myself, far far away from here.”

“I have no complaints about that,” Seonghwa shrugs. “I just wonder if the others would be as amicable.”

Wooyoung. And now, Jongho.

“They will live.”

There are questions in his eyes, likely because of the ‘they’, but he does not probe further, sighing. “I just want everyone to be safe, kumiho. Especially Wooyoung. He has grown into our spark, mended himself with ease. There is reason why he feels that he must be loved by us all without as much as a slight worry. His insecurities on being the last have not gone away, despite the years. Hongjoong has tried to reassure him endlessly. Giving him leeway on things that happen, using his punishments as just time to reflect. But sometimes his inner turmoil catches up to him.”

“So he thinks he cares for me this way, but it's not the case.”

Seonghwa hums, likely choosing his next words carefully. “I wouldn't speak for Wooyoung, but we've all experienced these moments with him. I am sure he cares for you tremendously, but what comes into question is how much. Is it because he truly truly wants you to be his, or is it because he wants you to not reject him? That worry hasn't gone away and it's been hundreds of years. I doubt it will suddenly mend itself now. I am concerned, and I know it's wildly unserious for an Unseelie to, but I do. I hope that you will care for his heart.”

His lips lift slightly. “Perhaps it would have been better if you were a human, after all.”

“Well I am, and nothing has changed.”

He does not say anything, looking back at the house. “I will kill you if you hurt any of them. Kumiho or not.”

“You will try.”

His expression breaks, smile growing. “Haven’t you gotten bold?”

–

He watches you, how your laugh erupts from your lips. Eyes closed, hand over your lip muffling the sweet sound. His fingers grip the cup, eyes roaming to your body sinking into Wooyoung's side. How you do it with such ease, his arm wrapping around you, pulling you closer. He barely gives you a glance as he does so. Seonghwa knows his own affection is opposite to his mate's. He knows that he's aggressively avoided each chance he has had with you alone. So the bitterness itching the back of this throat shouldn't be there. He wanted you gone – not killed, just far away from them. For their safety, for their protection.

He hates this.

Wooyoung presses his lips against your temple, your lashes fluttering at the soft caress. Seonghwa places his cup down, the click of the ceramic against the marble catching only Mingi's attention. He meets his eyes. Mingi does not say anything, but he does not need to. He could see the uneasiness spilling from Seonghwa even if the others could not. His curious eyes only confirm it.

Seonghwa looks away.

“Nymph, training.” Mingi says simply. Seonghwa sees how you tense at the word. Wooyoung does as well, thumb rubbing your arm before letting you go. The rest carry on their conversations as you follow Mingi out the room, Wooyoung's eyes lingering on the empty doorway.

Just as the doors close behind them, Wooyoung leans forward. “You could hide your jealousy just a bit, hyung. I could feel you seething before seeing it.”

“Don’t say things that make zero sense.”

“A lie within truth, you’ve become an expert at it,” Wooyoung waves him off. “Worry not, I'm jealous too.”

“I said –”

“And I chose not to listen,” he grins, poking his side before stepping away.

–

A few days have passed since then. The others slowly came back, Hongjoong still away for a while. Mingi barely acknowledged after the small training session with you, Yunho sending you a smile before the two disappeared into their respective rooms. You’ve spent some time with Wooyoung, the silence filled with his tales of the in-between. He didn’t notice how your face contorts as he explained their feasts, bodies piled as the Unseelie celebrated. Their feeding habits are not unknown to you, but listening to how much he enjoys killing only makes your chest ache. A vivid reminder of what you’ve gotten yourself into.

“Your face is twisted,” he points out after a moment. “Is something disturbing you?”

“I’d rather not hear about your murders, if you don’t mind.”

He laughs. “I am an awful being, solaris,” his smile slips. “There are things that you will never know, never fathom. You may never look at me the same if it came out. That is what worries me, what keeps my mind open at night. It is why I’ve rarely rested since you’ve come here. Why I cannot leave you longer than a few days because I am desperate for you to yearn for me the same. And I know that is impossible, due to your true nature,” his fingers shake as he takes yours into his, “And despite my being of chaos, I do not want it to fall on you.”

“You can tell me what you’re hiding, and I will listen, Wooyoung.”

He shakes his head, “I cannot.”

“This, between the two of us, will end if you do?”

His breath hitches, eyes meeting yours. “It will.”

The fear of not knowing would linger if he never says it. And he knows that. He will not utter it, even if you pry over and over. Even if you leave. Because he is still an Unseelie. And he admits that he is selfish. You could be letting out your last dying breath, and he wouldn’t say it.

Oh, how that scares you terribly.

“You expect me to stay after you’ve told me this?” It is a genuine question, one that you really need answered.

“I expect you to trust me when I say you being here is the only way we can protect you. I expect you to understand that once you leave, you will be taken by the Seelie. And we may never meet eyes again.”

You love him. You do. But what you’ve learned since your last love leaving you is that you can love again. It will hurt terribly, leaving them, but you will live. You will grow. Perhaps the look in your eyes makes him panic, his fingers tightening in their grip. You have seen him angry, hurt, confused. The way he looks at you now frightens you more than any of those times. It is something he has only slipped when you’re in bed together, but seeing it now, it leaves you utterly cold.

Obsession.

He will not let you go. So your next question is fairly straightforward.

“Will you try to kill me if I leave you?”

His eyes widened. “Not… I…” He pauses. “You have to understand the others and their position, solaris. We are not good. But, San, San is good. He is innately good. He has never been like the other Seelies, he has always been different. He has always cared differently. Faeries are selfish, we all are. But he, him, there is not one faerie who can surpass how much care he has in him. And I so desperately want to,” Wooyoung stares at his hands, slowly curling his fingers into his palms. “I want to be good like San. Will you love me, then?” His eyes seemingly glow in the dim light, “Or will I have to always be second to him?”

“There isn't a ranking here, Wooyoung.” And what is he speaking to? Neither of you have ever brought up San in conversations. You don’t even love San, let alone like him. Has someone told him something you haven’t?

“Oh, but there is. You hate Hongjoong, that is what I am sure of. You care for Jongho, for Yunho. But me… even though we have been together, you do not care for me as I do you. I can feel it. I can feel your hesitation when it comes to me.”

“Enough.”

You pull your hand from his, his grip limp. He stands just as you do, eyes flicking behind you. There is no need for you to turn and see who it is, his resolute tone enough. His body is close enough that you must feel the heat emitting from his skin. His fingers lightly brush against your forearm as he moves to get to Wooyoung. You are not unaffected by the brief contact, sliding down your sleeve to get rid of the feeling.

San makes his way in front of his lover, sliding onto one knee. “What are you speaking of to her, Wooyoung? When was the last time you fed?”

“Just days ago, San. I’m okay,” his tone is insistent, eyes flicking to you. “I won’t do anything, I just want to speak with her.”

“Have you heard yourself?” San asks, shaking his head. “This isn’t good for you, letting your thoughts roam like that.”

The way he speaks to him is strange. How his hand is tight around Wooyoung, the other pressed harshly on his shoulder.

As if he is restraining him.

Their words are quieter as you watch, your attention moving to just behind them, on your porch. Your eyes begin to widen.

Something rests on the railing, the same eyes that stared at you through the forest only nights ago. The ones that Jongho insisted were just pixies. The creature grips the railing, large feathered wings draping against its back, gaze still on yours. You stand up quickly, San and Wooyoung looking at you.

“San–” You can barely let his name come out, their heads turning to look back. There isn’t enough time for any of you to register what is happening, the creature breaking through the glass. Its claws sink into Wooyoung’s shoulders, its grip pulling him away from San and out through the broken paned doors. The scream that erupts from San is agonizing, but everything happens too quickly. You can hear crashing downstairs, likely the same creatures attacking everyone in the home. A firm grip on your arm pulls you back. You look to see Mingi, blackened blood smeared on his body as he steps in front of you. His clothing is shredded, barely held together. You left your practicing gear outside, and you’d doubt you’d be able to reach it before one of these things grabs you. All you can do is stand behind him as he moves forward, panic rising in your body. San is fighting off the creatures with ease - oddly none have targeted you just yet.

They seem to be able to fight each one that appears through the crumbled wall with ease, until more and more pile inside. You hear his scream before you see it. San’s body is thrown across the room and into you, the two of you tossed out the room and into the hallway. Mingi yells, but he cannot reach you. You struggle beneath San’s body, struggling to lift him off of you. He grunts, pulling himself off of you.

He stumbles onto his feet but cannot seem to hold his own body weight up, falling to his knees. You’re able to grab him before he hits the floor face first, blood coating your fingers. You rest on your bottom, holding his upper torso on your legs. You look down the hallway, the blur of bodies fighting off the creatures. You don’t have the strength to drag him and you’re afraid to, the gaping hole in his chest stopping you from attempting.

It is all so dark. His blood covers every inch of your palms, seeping through the cracks of your fingers as you desperately press the cloth over it. It is of no use – it bleeds through, dripping to the wood beneath your feet. It splatters against your cheek as he attempts to speak. A shh escaping your lips. You can see how the others fight, their gazes moving to San beneath you, yearning to help and be by his side. Their loud shouting occupies your ears, how they ache, unable to stop the fight even briefly to pull San away from it all. To help him live. To save his life. You are useless in saving him. You haven't the knowledge or spells to mend the deep wound. His fingers wrap around yours that hold him, a soft smile showing the blood that reflects against stained teeth. He will die soon, and you can only look at him in grief. Until, that is, until Mingi's words sink into you.

“Seelie and Unseelie are similar in many ways, and different in so much more. To put it simply – they thrive on light, on goodness, luck, wealth, care, etcetera. We feed on terror, fear, life, chaos. We may seem evil, of which we are to a certain extent, but our kind are both faeries. Our weaknesses are similar. Seelie in particular, though, has a greater one. How joyous we as Unseelie are when we find someone in despair is quite comparable to how aroused they are when they see pure happiness. It is their greatest weakness.”

You look down at him. Your fear, your hurt, it should be able to help him now. To let him feed, gain his strength back. But your angst seems to not affect him at all - the blood continuously pouring from his lips, his body barely holding on. Unseelie wouldn’t hesitate to use you to help themselves. But San, he does not seem even the least bit phased.

You remember when San saved you from the Seelie at the train station, the words uttered to San odd, but not notable enough for you to inquire about it at the time.

“You have forgotten yourself, San. There is only so much you can do before she knows as well.”

San is not an Unseelie.

He never was an Unseelie.

You use your free hand to wipe your tears away, forcing your eyes shut. The idea is likely hopeless, your sadness might be too deep to push away, but you can’t sit here and let him die. Your fingers wrap tightly around his hand, willing yourself to think of something happier. You haven’t thought of Soobin in a while, but it’s the only warm memory you can think of. You look at San, how his eyes stay on yours. How the pulse of his heart seems to slow down, blinks following suit. You will yourself to focus on happier memories, letting one hand go to push his hair away from his face. The memories are not enough, though. His hold loosens on your hand, steady eyes glossing over.

No.

“y/n, move!”

You turn to the side, one of the creatures holding Mingi against the wall. He grunts, elongated limbs thrashing against its face. He cannot break free.

“San…” You whisper, “Please.”

His smile slips, grip loosening completely. You’re unable to leave his side, no matter how much the voices shout at you to go. To leave San behind. Claws dig harshly into your shoulder blades, pulling you away from him. You try reaching for the framing of your room, but the creature is exponentially stronger than your own grip, ripping you from the home, out the gaping hole they took Wooyoung through.